Her Choice
by OraLynn
Summary: In the aftermath of Negan's deadly confrontation, an injured Daryl lies recovering at the Hilltop, where he wakes up to receive even more devastating news. A Caryl inspired story.
1. Chapter 1

" _Hey. Hey, it's ok. Some of your color's returned, I'd say that's a pretty good sign. Daryl? Can you hear me? My name's Helen, I'm a nurse for Dr. Carson; do you know where you are? You're at the Hilltop. Your family's here, they're all waiting for you to wake up. You're going to be just fine. We're gonna have you up and back on your feet in no time, ok? Daryl? Daryl... I think he passed out, again_..."

When he woke up, he was alone. His eyes blinked slowly, taking in the sunlight pouring in from the open windows. Through his blurry vision, he caught movement. Curtains billowed gently in the cool breeze, casting shadows on the dressers and walls. He looked around. He was lying shirtless in a small white bed, in a room he had never seen before. Panic seized him and Daryl sat upright, but the sharp pain in his shoulder, his chest, was like an electric shock. A groan escaped his throat, and he eased himself back onto the sweat soaked sheets. That simple movement alone was enough to send him reeling. He was dizzy, disoriented. He raised a hand to cover his eyes and felt a small tug. Someone had administered an IV. Someone had cleansed the blood from his arms, from his neck. He felt the heavy bandages and gauze wrapped around his right shoulder and chest. His arm was secure in a sling. How in the hell did he ever get here?

Daryl stared up at the ceiling. Everything was so quiet. But in his mind, he could still hear it. The screaming. The wailing. The last desperate plea for mercy. That sick fuck laughing at them, mocking their anguish, getting off on it all. He could hear Maggie. Her scream was on repeat, playing over and over again. The sound that came from her that night would never leave him. A raw, inhuman sound destined to haunt him until his dying day. He couldn't remember when he had finally passed out. But he could remember the crunch of the bat... he could see the blood soaked dirt... and Glenn.

 _Glenn._ The taste of bile rose in Daryl's throat. He gripped the sheets around him, wanting to scream. Glenn was dead. God, no. Oh, please God, _no._

It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. He was going to be a father. He had something to live for, something to offer the world. And he was gone. Gone in a matter of seconds. How can a man's whole life, his very essence, be so easily obliterated to nothing? Like he didn't matter? Like he never existed? Were they truly all just sacks of blood, held together by bones and meat? How would they ever move on from this?

 _It should have been me_ , he thought dismally. _It's my fault. It's all my fault._

Glenn never would have been out there if it hadn't been for him. His desire for revenge had clouded his judgement and he stormed off after Dwight like a man with a death wish. Glenn had followed him. He tried to talk sense to him, tried to bring him home. Why had he not listened? Why had he not turned back when he still had the chance? He had let this happen. He let Dwight get the jump on him, let those men take Glenn, Michonne and Rosita hostage. This was his doing. His responsibility. His shame. He closed his eyes and found himself surrounded by the faces of the dead.

Sophia. Merle. Hershel. Beth. Denise.

Now Glenn.

All the people he couldn't protect. All the people he let die. There was a rushing sound in his head. And he could hear Maggie scream...

The room was much too quiet. He felt a chill go down his spine. He was suddenly afraid. Afraid of being alone. He didn't want to be alone in this room anymore. Where was everyone? He wanted Rick. He wanted Michonne. He wanted to fall to his knees and beg Maggie for forgiveness. But most of all, he wanted Carol.

 _Carol ain't here_ , he reminded himself, and some of the fear that had gripped his heart slowly ebbed away. Carol was home with Judith. She hadn't been there to see it. She had been spared of all this. He could breathe a shaky sigh of relief at the thought. She was safe. Home and safe. That's all that mattered to him now.

The more he thought of her, the more he wished she could be there with him. He wanted to hold her, to feel her arms around him. He wanted to break down, to have her comfort him, to tell him it was going to be alright. It was selfish. It was pitiful. But he needed her. He needed her love, her friendship. He needed that now more than ever.

He didn't know why or how it happened, but something had changed between them. In these short few months, they had drifted apart. Ever since they arrived in Alexandria, Carol had done everything to push him away. She avoided him. Treated him no differently than a stranger. He would be lying if he said he wasn't hurt by it. He could have been more attentive to her, he admitted. But the transition to Alexandria hadn't been easy for him. He had had his own demons to deal with. Then with everything that happened after, it just got away from him.

He knew there was something wrong with her. He knew she was in pain. Their time together in Atlanta, where she had opened up to him, as small as that was... that had been the closest he'd ever gotten to finding the truth. That seemed so long ago now. If he had pushed her then, would things be any different? Would she have confided in him, trust in him again as she did once before? He didn't know. Instead, he had given her space, hoping that with time she would figure it out on her own. Time was something they didn't have anymore. He had so many regrets. There were so many things he wished he could have done differently. He couldn't do right by them, but he could still do what was right by her. This distance between them, he would bridge it. He would not wake up one day with Carol as a regret. As long as she was safe, as long as she was alive, there was still hope for them. He just wanted his friend back.

There was a glass of water next to him on the bed side table. A small orange pill rested at the base of it. He took the pill with his left hand, popped it in his mouth, and swallowed it whole. He didn't know what it was. He didn't really give a shit. Hopefully it was something that would knock him out. Put him under so he didn't have to take the silence of the room anymore.

Daryl jumped at the sudden click of the door. He looked up and saw a woman standing there on the threshold. She had wavy brown hair that framed her gentle face, and she wore a light blue dress with a stethoscope draped around her neck. She smiled at him, looked over her shoulder, gave a nod, and stepped aside to let a man enter the room. It was Rick.

"I'll leave you two be," said the woman softly, and Rick nodded at her appreciatively. The woman closed the door, and Rick and Daryl were left alone together, staring at each other from across the quiet room.

"Rick..?"

Daryl broke into a dry cough. His voice was rough and raw, like he had swallowed sand paper and gargled ashes.

"You should drink that," said Rick, pointing at the untouched glass. "Some water will do you good."

Rick grabbed a chair and pulled it up next to the bed as Daryl finished downing the glass. Rick sighed and lowered himself wearily onto the seat. He sat with his elbows on his knees, running his hands over his face a few times before finally steeling himself to face his friend. He looked utterly exhausted.

"I really thought we were gonna lose you," Rick began, his voice a coarse whisper. "Dr. Carson said because the bullet came so close to severing a major artery, and the fact that you were locked up in that van for God knows how long without medical attention... he said it's a miracle you didn't bleed to death. But you're gonna be alright. He, uh... he tells me you're gonna make a full recovery. And Helen, she's been taking good care of you. She's good. Real good. She used to be a trauma nurse...before all this..."

Rick stared down at his hands, fidgeting with them. The man looked like he had not had a single peaceful night of sleep ever since before the world had ended. Daryl felt for him. He could feel the pressuring weight of the world crushing down on his shoulders, could see the burden of loss finally taking its toll. Rick had always done his best to do what he thought was right for his family. They had all grown to become family to each other. Daryl never knew what a real family was like before finding these people. To see Rick like this, to know his actions had caused this despair... there was no greater agony in the world. Daryl felt his throat tightened, and his eyes began to burn.

"I let you down, man."

Rick looked up at him. "What?"

"Glenn... Michonne, Rosita... they were out there because of me. Led 'em right into a trap and didn't know it. I never should have left. If I hadn't, Glenn wouldn't've..." Daryl's breath shuddered. He looked away. "I killed him, Rick. I got his blood on my hands. All on my hands."

"No. No, hey. Look at me." Rick waited until Daryl gave him his full attention.

"We can't keep doing that. We can't go blaming ourselves. I've done plenty enough of that as it is. We all had a part to play in this. It doesn't fall on one person alone. This is on all of us."

Rick sighed, wiping a hand on his brow. "Maggie blames herself because she made the deal with Gregory. You blame yourself because that's what you do. And I blame myself... because I'm the _leader_. I got too arrogant. Too comfortable. We killed a lot of people. I thought we were done with it. By doing what we did, I thought we had prevented something worse from happening. But what I had you do was wake a sleeping giant."

"We all agreed to do it," said Daryl.

"Yeah, I know," Rick conceded, "but at the end of the day, it was still my call to make."

Daryl exhaled softly. He looked towards the window, watching the curtains dance in the breeze.

"I should've talked to you before," said Rick.

"How so?"

"Those men who killed Denise, they were just leftovers. Stragglers. They were running scared, they had no where else to go. We would find them and we would handle them. They weren't a threat. I was _wrong_. After she died, I should have come to you. I should have known what you were going to do."

Daryl dropped his head, engulfed once again by a fresh wave of anger and guilt.

"So whose fault is it?" Rick continued. "We can go around the room, confessing our sins, but in the end, it's like you said. We all agreed to do it. In the end, only one person killed Glenn."

"You were out looking for us," said Daryl. "For me, Michonne, Glenn, Rosita. You were out there because of us, weren't you?"

"No. We were out there because of Maggie."

Daryl stared questioningly at him.

"Something was wrong with the baby," Rick explained. "We needed to get her to Dr. Carson, we needed to get her to the Hilltop. That's why we left. So if you think about it, Glenn would have been there no matter what happened. He never would have stayed behind while his wife was so sick."

"The baby," said Daryl. "It's going to be ok? Maggie, she ok?"

Rick looked down at his feet. "She needs to rest."

That was cryptic as hell and Daryl didn't like it. "But the baby?"

"She almost lost it," Rick confessed. "Whatever it was that made her sick, plus the stress of everything... but that's one tough kid. Gets it from its parents. I count our blessings when we can."

Daryl laid his head back, relief coursing through him. He was fighting off the growing urge to nod off, he noticed. His eyelids grew heavier with each passing minute, though the pain in his shoulder had dulled significantly. It must have been the drug he took. It seemed to have finally started to take effect.

Rick was looking off into space, staring angrily at a fixed point in the wall. He had his hands balled into fists under his chin. Tears were pooling in his eyes. "Maggie didn't deserve this," he whispered. "Glenn didn't deserve this. Everything is so completely fucked..."

He sniffed loudly, wiping away at his face and glancing down at his feet again.

"What do we do now, man?" Daryl asked, softly.

"We do what Negan says," Rick answered. "We give him half of our supplies. What other choice do we have? He beat us. He won. We had no idea who we were dealing with. We have to play by his rules for now. Truth is... truth is, I don't know what to do."

Rick looked at Daryl like a man lost. It was a kind of vulnerability not often seen or shown, and it humbled Daryl to hear Rick admit that to him. There was a level of trust there not to be taken for granted.

"I have to get back to Alexandria," said Rick. "Negan will be there in three days. That's how long he's given us to gather everything we've got for his tribute."

"Our people back home, they don't know what's coming," said Daryl. "We gotta warn Carol, prepare her for this. She don't even know about Glenn yet."

Rick's face froze. He seemed to take a deep breath, staring back at Daryl with a strange look in his eyes. Daryl squinted at him.

"What is it?"

Rick leaned back, exhaling slowly. He ran a hand through his hair, avoiding Daryl's eyes. He had that distinctive look of a man about to brace himself.

"About Carol..."

Daryl felt a sudden, tightening pain in his chest. His heart began to race, and he found he couldn't move or breathe. No. What about Carol? What fresh new hell was this? _Don't do this to me, man_ , he thought. _Don't do this to me, please_. It was Daryl's turn to stare back at Rick with a frozen look of fear. He didn't speak. He didn't have to. His eyes said it all.

"That morning before we left for the Hilltop, after you had already gone," Rick began, "Tobin came to the door and gave me a note. Carol had left it. Some time during the night, she slipped out. She took off. She left because she said she'd have to kill for us, and she couldn't do that anymore. It was her decision. She told us not to follow her. She didn't say where she was going, she didn't say she was coming back." Rick paused, letting out a sigh. "She's gone, Daryl. I wish it were different, but this was her choice. I'm sorry, brother. I'm sorry."

A rushing sound filled Daryl's ears. He felt like he was going to fall, fall into a endless black pit and be swallowed up whole. He saw Denise, her dying words still on her lips, as his own crossbow bolt entered her eye and ended her life. He saw Glenn, pleading with him to come home, fighting his way to get to Maggie, Dwight pointing his crossbow at him in the dirt. He saw the bat come down, he heard Glenn's last breath, and there was Carol. Carol slipping out into the darkness, not looking back, not saying goodbye. Not knowing or caring what this would do to him. Hurt, anger, betrayal. All of it hit him at once like a punch to the face. But worse of all was guilt. Guilt that he couldn't stop her. Guilt that he couldn't save anyone anymore. Tears prickled at his eyes, hot and burning. It was too much.

Daryl sent the glass flying, smashing it into the wall where it burst into a thousand tiny pieces.

"SHE TRIED PULLING THIS SHIT BEFORE, MAN! I WAS THERE, I STOPPED HER, I BROUGHT HER BACK!"

Rick jumped in his chair, stunned into silence. Daryl rounded on him.

"WE'RE HER FAMILY! YOU DON'T WALK OUT ON FAMILY! YOU DON'T _EVER_ TURN YOUR BACK ON THE PEOPLE YOU LOVE!"

Searing pain shot up and down his shoulder. Daryl hunched over, gripping his right arm still stuck in its sling. He glared at Rick. "Didn't ANYONE go after her?!"

"We _did_!" Rick assured him, quickly. "Morgan and I, we did. She took one of the cars at the gate. We drove out, found it abandoned on the road. There were signs of where she could have gone. Morgan kept looking. He's _still_ looking. He's gonna find her, Daryl. He's gonna bring her back."

"MAN, IT SHOULDN'T BE HIM OUT THERE!" Daryl threw the sheets off him, rolling awkwardly on his left.

"The hell are you doing?" said Rick, but Daryl ignored him. He reached the edge of the bed, sitting up wobbly, the IV ripped from his hand.

"Daryl, lie back down!"

But he was already on his feet, staggering drunkenly towards the door. "NOT UNTIL I FIND HER AND DRAG HER ASS BACK MY..."

Daryl collapsed to the floor in a heap.

It took several tries to heave Daryl off the floor and carry him back to the bed. He crumpled down, letting out a moan and a sob through gritted teeth.

The room fell silent again. A steady _boom boom boom_ pounded in Daryl's head. As quickly as it came, the fight had left him. He was fading fast, losing focus. A hazy, sleepiness crept over him, and he welcomed it. It would be so easy to just let the drugs take effect. To close his eyes and drift away. He stared hopelessly at the ceiling.

"Where's she gonna go?" he said, his voice thick and hoarse. "It ain't no better out there than it is here. Hell, it's worse. What was she thinking?"

"I don't know," said Rick. "I wish I could tell you. I wish I knew she had felt this way. If she had told someone, anyone... I dunno, we could've worked something out. We could've tried to help her."

Daryl laughed humorlessly. He felt his heart sink deep into his chest until it landed with a thud in his gut.

"I couldn't help her," he whispered. "She's done everything for me and I couldn't do this one thing. I should've tried harder. I should've been there for her. I should've done something."

His vision began to blur. The room began to sway. He was tired. So very tired.

"You're the most important person in her life, Daryl," said Rick. "There's a reason for that. She loves you, man. If you couldn't get through to her, if you couldn't see this coming... then I don't know who else could."

There came a small knock at the door, and the woman in the blue dress re-entered the room. She looked nervously at Rick. "Is everything alright?" she asked. "I heard raised voices. Did something break in here?"

Daryl could barely hear Rick's explanation for the broken glass and sudden outburst. His eyes were going in and out of focus, and all other sounds meshed together, as though from far away.

"Who took his IV out?" The woman bounded up to Daryl's bedside, reattaching the IV into his hand, taping it in place. "Did he take the pill on the table?"

"I don't know," said Rick. "Maybe."

"It's for the pain, but it should help him sleep, too." The woman placed a hand on Daryl's forehead. "He's burning up."

Quickly she turned, heading towards the door. "I'll be back," she said over her shoulder. "I need to get something to cool him down."

"Thank you, Helen," said Rick, and he watched as she vanished out into the hallway.

The light from the window seemed to dim. Daryl wondered if the sun was going down. That had to explain why the room was so dark.

"Daryl, I need you to listen," he thought he heard Rick say then. "I can't stay here much longer. In a few more hours, we'll be heading home. You've gotta get your strength back. So the best thing for you to do is to stay here. You won't be alone. Maggie's staying. For her sake and the baby's, she needs to be close to Dr. Carson. We're gonna figure this out. We're gonna make that son of a bitch pay for what he did to Glenn, I promise you. We'll find Carol. No matter what happens, we'll bring her home. It's gonna be ok."

Daryl turned his head, staring up at Rick. Tears were streaming down his face.

"Why would she do this, man?"

Darkness came down like a curtain. Heavy eyes closed shut, blocking out the world for good.

He would get no answer.


	2. Chapter 2

When the sun rose that morning on the third day, Daryl laid in his bed wide awake. The manor was quiet. Peaceful. He stared blankly out the window watching dark clouds taking form, bruising the graying sky as thunder rolled softly in the distance.

He wasn't sure how Virginia compared, but storms in Georgia could be biblical. He remembered being caught in one once, several years back. He had been alone, wanting some peace away from Merle, hunting for game to clear his head. That's when it came. God gave the world below the middle finger and all holy hell broke loose. A lot of people died that day, he found out later. He could have been one of them. He was lucky to get out of that alive.

Stupid thing was, he should have seen it coming. All day the weather had been threatening. The warning signs were there but he had chosen to ignore it. He had been so dead set on tracking his prey that he became completely oblivious to the real dangers in front of him. He remembered telling himself he would never be so careless again.

All this time later, and he hadn't learned his lesson.

There was a note lying open next to him on the bed side table. Daryl stared at it, thinking. The nurse had given it to him just the day before, when he had been lucid enough to read it. By that point, he had found out that Rick and the others had already gone. He could almost hear Rick's voice now as he reached out to re-read his letter.

 _You were still out of it by the time we left. No one wanted to leave you or Maggie behind, but to stay any longer would've been dangerous. You were right. Our people back home don't know what's coming._

 _Do NOT leave the Hilltop. I know you. You'll want to go after Carol, but you can't do that. You need to focus on yourself now. Use this time to heal. Trust that Morgan will find her. And even if he doesn't, Carol is a survivor. She's strong. I know she's going to be alright. I don't know what's going to happen next, but I know I can't do this without you. I need you. We all do. So rest up and get better. If anything should happen, we'll send word out to you as fast as we can._

 _Stay close to Maggie. Take care of each other. We'll be back for you soon._

 _—Rick_

Daryl sighed, dropping the note and rubbing his eyes.

 _Son of a bitch_.

Daryl wasn't fool enough in his condition to go running off on some wild goose chase with no lead or starting point just so he could hopefully find someone who didn't want to be found, but god dammit, it was tempting. He already did that once, and it got Glenn killed. If he went after Carol, who would pay the price for it this time? Rick was right. The others needed him. Carol made her choice. It was a stupid choice, one that broke his heart in two, but from where he sat now there was nothing he could do.

And that tore at him. Deeply.

He wasn't sure how to feel anymore. Should he be angry? Hurt? Or scared shitless? All three, he supposed. If anything were to happen to her... Jesus, he tried not to think about it. He had lost so many people. If he were to lose her, too, on top of everything else...

But he _had_ lost her. She was gone. She had left them all, of her own free will. He thought about that night outside of the church. He had followed her out to the car, the one they had found abandoned on the side of the road. She was going to leave then, too. But he had stopped her. Later she told him it was because she couldn't stand around to watch them die. Now she left because she couldn't kill for them anymore. None of it made any sense.

 _If she don't wanna kill no more, then she don't have to_ , he thought. But he knew it wasn't that simple. Whatever was bothering her must have taken root from way back when. Maybe to the prison. Most likely with Karen and David...

They had never spoken about it. She refused to, so he never asked. She must've had her reasons. She'd done it, it happened, it was over. At least for him it was. But some demons stay with you. Regret and guilt weren't things you could easily shake. He knew that better than most. And then there was the girls...

There was just so much he didn't know. So much she had kept to herself. And as his heart sank low into his chest, he realized with a pang of sorrow that maybe it was too late to ever make things right again.

Daryl looked up when there came a knock at the door. It opened, and a woman walked in carrying a small plate and a glass of water. "Hello. Glad to see you up," she said. "I thought you'd might like some breakfast." Helen walked over to the bed, settling the plate and glass on the table. She pulled up a chair and sat down, her hands together in her lap. "How are you feeling?" she asked him. "Answer truthfully, now."

Daryl thought for a moment. "Better than before, I guess," he said.

"You look better. Still a little pale, but definitely on the mend. Your fever's gone, too. All in all, I'd say you're making a fine recovery."

"How's Maggie?"

Daryl had not seen or heard from Maggie ever since he woke up in that room. He was worried about her. This was no time for her to be alone. Helen sighed sadly, her eyes sympathetic.

"She has a rough road ahead of her," she said. "But she has a lot of people who love her, who care about her. I saw that when your friends were here. You guys truly are a family. Not too many people have what you have these days."

Daryl tugged on a loose thread on his sling, nodding passively.

"I don't know your friend very well," said Helen, "and I don't know you very well, but from what I've gathered, I can see that the two of you are really strong people. And I admire you, the both of you, very much. I just thought you ought to know that."

Daryl looked at her. She smiled at him warmly.

"When you see her," said Daryl, "can you tell her I'm thinking 'bout her?"

"Of course. She's asked about you, too. She wanted to know how you were doing. I told her you were going to be ok. And you are. Soon enough, you can get up and tell her that yourself."

Daryl hummed but didn't say much else. He looked down at his lap, picking his nails with his thumb.

"You're in a dark place right now, I know," Helen began. "Our experiences are different, but... I think I know how you feel." Helen took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

"What that man did to your friend, he did the same to someone here. He lined several of our people out by the front gate. He murdered a boy in front of everyone just to prove a point. He was 16-years-old. I knew him. His name was Rory. He was sweet. Helpful. He was taking up an apprenticeship, he wanted to be a blacksmith. He could be a goofy kid sometimes too, you know? He used to call me Hells Bells..." Helen laughed, wiping at her eyes, then sniffed. "That had been a horrible wake up call. And right inside our own walls."

"That's something you don't ever get over," said Daryl.

"What is?"

"Losing people."

Helen watched him, noting the sadness in his eyes.

"We normally burn our dead here," she said. "We stopped burying them a long time ago. But with Maggie's husband, we made an exception. He's been laid to rest in a shaded spot behind the manor. Our blacksmith put together a really nice marker for him. It's got his name engraved and everything. I've almost forgotten the idea of visiting your loved ones after they've gone. It kind of reminds me of how things used to be. Back when we were allowed to mourn. It's got other people talking, too. I think it might be time for us to change our ways around here. Having a grave to visit... it doesn't sound so bad."

Helen smiled again, small and reassuring. She stood up, walking towards the door. "I'll leave you to your breakfast," she said, and with a quick nod good bye, she left the room.

* * *

The storm had subsided by the time night fell. Daryl cracked his door open, looking down the hallway. He had grown antsy and anxious, desperate to get out of that stale room of his and go find some fresh air. He needed to take a walk.

Most of the residence had already gone to bed, but there were still a few people hanging around the place. He avoided their eyes as he descended the stairs, his legs wobbly and off balance. He had found an old green T-shirt in one of the drawers and put that on after maneuvering out of his sling and discarding it on the bed. That miserable thing was hot and itchy and he was glad to be rid of it. He knew if Helen found out she wouldn't be too happy, but this whole thing was sort of her fault to begin with.

Daryl had dug his share of graves. It wasn't something he had given much thought to, it was just something that had to be done. Although he had buried many of his friends over the years, he had never gone back to visit them. To mourn for them. The only time he had ever done so had been with Carol...

That had been the first time he thought he had lost her. It was odd, since there had been no body to bury, but they had made a spot for her with a marker, all the same. What a miracle that had been. When he found her in those tombs, dazed but alive, it was like being given a second chance. But those agonizing hours beforehand, when he thought she was gone for good, had nearly put him in the ground right then and there. Looking back on it now, he could see why he avoided visiting graves. It was just too painful.

But whatever Helen had said had stirred something within him. A curiosity. An obligation. A chance to seek forgiveness. He walked across the foyer pushing the door open with his left arm and he stepped outside. The sky was a dark blue with the fall of twilight. He wasn't exactly sure where to go, until he spotted the large tree at the back of the house where the unmistakable shape of a tombstone stood marking a grave. Glenn's grave. He felt his pulse quicken and his feet turned into lead. This time there would be no miracles. No second chances. Glenn was dead. He would not be coming back.

A figure was already kneeling at the grave. Daryl forced himself forward, dragging his feet to stand behind the woman who had her head bowed in silence. He felt frozen, numb, unable to say a single thing as all words came up meaningless on his tongue. The woman seemed to realize his presence then. She stood, and Maggie turned to face him. Her eyes were round and glassy, her expression as hollow as her cheeks. She looked as though she had no more tears left to shed. Daryl's chest rose and fell with each rapid breath. He felt his face slowly crumple. They stood before each other for what seemed like an eternity. And then Maggie took him in her arms.

Silent quaking sobs wracked his body as Maggie held him tight. They were both shaking, but neither one was cold. A soothing warmth began to spread through them. When Daryl finally spoke, it was barely above a whisper.

"I would trade his place..."

"Don't you ever say that."

Moonlight shown down on them through thick, heavy clouds. The pain would be there tomorrow, the next day, even a year from now. But in that moment, in that brief period of time, there was comfort. There was friendship.

And there was forgiveness.


	3. Chapter 3

"This used to be real nasty, remember, sweetie?"

Carol nodded, but said nothing. Dr. Beachum applied more ointment to her stomach, gently massaging it around the stitches from the knife wound. The ointment felt lovely. Cool and soothing on her warm, burning skin. The tiny nurses station was stifling hot. All around the walls, children's drawings still hung by the tape, though many were starting to curl in the heat and the colors were beginning to fade. Dr. Beachum had beads of sweat all over her forehead and brow, but it didn't seem to bother her in the slightest.

"Yes ma'am, when they brought you in here, I thought to myself, 'now, who on earth would want to hurt such a poor, sweet thing?' This world has gone lost its damn mind. I'm so glad those boys found you when they did. Who knows how long you would have lasted out there on your own."

Carol was silent. Dr. Beachum stared at her with concern, but shook her head and continued with her ministrations. Carol grimaced slightly at the throbbing pain in her arm. She tried not to touch it, but the urge was too great.

"Nuh-uh, none of that now," scolded Dr. Beachum, catching her. "I will change your dressings for that soon, you just sit tight, ok sweetie?"

Carol wished she wouldn't call her that.

Time seemed to have slipped by, for as soon as she started, Dr. Beachum had finished redressing the injuries to her arm and leg. Carol moved gently to the floor from the table as Dr. Beachum rolled the wheelchair behind her.

Carol looked at it with reservation. "How long before I can walk on my own again?"

"Give yourself some time to heal first," said the doctor. "Is there some place you gotta be, or something?"

Carol held her gaze, then dropped it. "No," she said, lowering herself slowly into the chair.

Dr. Beachum made for the handles, rolling her towards the door, but Carol stopped her. "It's ok," she said. "I can take it from here." Carol pushed herself along, pausing at the threshold.

"Thank you, Dr. Beachum," she added softly, and she was out the door.

Carol found herself in a long hallway, rolling down the vinyl tile floors and passing by old lockers and classrooms that had been turned into housing apartments and storage units. People watched her as she went. It was a bit surreal. Like being the new kid in school again. She didn't like being the center of other people's attention. Especially when these people were complete strangers. She felt vulnerable enough as it was, and if anything were to happen, she hated the idea of not being able to make a quick getaway on her own.

The heat of the nurses station had left her feeling woozy. She decided some fresh air would do her some good. Carol pushed herself out the front doors and rolled down the handicapped ramp way. She positioned herself beneath a wide tree, and stared out over the courtyard.

The Kingdom, as it was called, had once been an old elementary school, transformed now into a grand safe haven for many people. She couldn't say if there were more people here than in Alexandria, but it certainly felt like it. Probably because they were all packed in like sardines. They had high and sturdy walls, but not much room to stroll around and view the gardens.

Carol looked up. On the second floor of the school was a large balcony. Behind it she could see green plants and vegetables growing inside glass walls. A greenhouse, she surmised. She could hear the sound of neighing in the distance. The bus garages had been converted into stables, and it seemed that all transportation here was done on horseback.

Sometimes at night, when she would lie awake in her room, she could hear the distant soft roars of some large animal. The first time she heard it, she thought she had been dreaming. But when she had asked around if others heard it too, they would smile knowingly at each other, and just nod their heads. It was infuriating, like they were all in on some big joke that Carol did not find especially funny. There was something odd about these Kingdom people. Especially the man who ran the place.

The night she had met Ezekiel was the second day after she had arrived there. She was laid up on a cot in the nurses station, her stitches still itching and her arm and leg burning and throbbing. She was hopped up on whatever pain medication they had given her and she was in no mood to talk or see anyone.

He came in through the doors, a large man with a heavy long coat, dark skin, white dreadlocks decorated with feathers and beads, a full beard, and a Hawaiian T-shirt. At first she thought he was just another patient, or a crazy person, until Dr. Beachum and her nurses stood at attention and bowed. "King Ezekiel, welcome," Carol heard them say.

"Efficient and capable as always, Dr. Beachum!" said the man, kindly. "And how is our newest arrival?" Ezekiel pulled up a chair and sat down so that he didn't stand above her but met her at face level. He smiled warmly, his voice soft and soothing. "You're in good hands, my lady. I heard of my patrol guards picking up two lost strangers in need. I always like to meet new members personally and welcome them into my Kingdom. I am Ezekiel. You are safe here, you have my word on that. As soon as you are able, Dr. Beachum will have someone help you get acclimated to your new home. If you choose to stay, of course."

Carol could only stare back at him, blankly.

"I'm sure you have many questions for me," he continued, "but now is the time for rest. I have already spoken to your companion. Morgan is a good man, I can tell. I feel as though I can trust the two of you now that we've met. After all, I have always prided myself on being an excellent judge of character!" Ezekiel smiled brightly, rose from his chair, turned to Dr. Beachum and the nurses, and bowed. They bowed back at once.

"Dr. Beachum, where would I be without you or your amazing staff? My Kingdom would surely crumble into ruin!"

Dr. Beachum blushed as the nurses giggled.

"Take care, my lady," Ezekiel addressed Carol as he headed out the door. "Remember that tomorrow is always a better and brighter day." He flashed one last smile, closed the door behind him, and was gone.

My lady? _King_ Ezekiel? Was this guy for real?

"He is something else, that man," said Dr. Beachum fondly. Carol thought so too, but with far less affection. She would stay vigilant for now. Any man who called himself a King must have had a couple of screws loose.

That had been more than a week ago. She hadn't seen the man ever since.

A cool breeze whipped the branches above her, and sunlight came filtering in through the gaps in the leaves. It was peaceful here. Safe.

But something wasn't right. Nothing nefarious or sinister. Just... not right.

She had felt numb ever since she arrived there. Like a car on auto pilot. She would get up, eat, exercise her leg, eat again, and sleep. Sleep if she could, for in the small hours of the morning, her mind would stretch beyond the boundaries of earth. So many thoughts came to her unwanted.

 _Did you make the right decision? Did you abandon your family for their sake or yours? Are you really so selfless? Or are you just a coward?_

 _Am I a coward?_ she thought. Maybe she was once. She thought she had changed.

But she had changed. She wasn't the same woman that she used to be. After Sophia died, she could have died along with her. Instead, she had found a strength in her she never knew she had. Life had beaten her into the dirt and she had fought back, kicking and screaming. She had found a new life, a new family. She had found love and friendship in the most unlikely places. She had found Rick and Carl and Glenn... Maggie, Michonne, and Daryl...

...She had found Daryl.

 _No_. Carol immediately put an end to that. She swallowed hard, straightening up in her chair. She was doing it again. Allowing her mind to drift into dangerous waters. She blinked away the sting in her eyes. She ignored the aching pain in her stomach.

They were gone. _He_ was gone. She had made her choice. It was for the best.

She had to leave them. A war was brewing, she could feel it, and there was no chance that any one of them would make this out unscathed. Someone would die. They all could die. And she was tired of it, tired of all the death, tired of the killing. She just couldn't do it anymore. And that made her dangerous. Because if she couldn't be willing to kill, then she could very well put someone's life at risk. How can she protect them if she can't kill for them?

She almost let Maggie die because she hesitated. She killed those people... the one's who took her and Maggie... and it nearly destroyed her. Her death toll was rising. Rising to the point where she could no longer keep count. She's killed bad people, but she's killed the innocent, too. Everyday she would see them. Everyday their faces would appear to her, haunt her, remind her of all her past atrocities and sins. It tortured her to the point where if she screamed, nothing would come out. She could see the blood coating her hands... never dry, alway fresh... always new... always running. Running, running, running down...

 _I am losing my mind._

"Good morning," said a voice. Carol started. Morgan approached her slowly, casually, like he had just gotten back from a refreshing stroll in the park. He stood beside her, silent for a while.

"When you get yourself back on your feet again, we can set out and head for home."

"No." Carol's voice was harsh and cold. A tone that came automatic whenever she spoke to the man. "If you want to go, you can. But I can't go back there."

Morgan gazed out serenely over the courtyard.

"You know, this place... this place has practically everything Alexandria has. People, food, medicine, walls. The kind of stuff others might want. That others might kill for. That's something you mentioned here in your letter..."

"You have my letter?"

Morgan removed the slip of paper from his pocket, showing her. Carol glared at him.

"That wasn't meant for you."

"Maybe not," said Morgan. "But as sturdy as this place is, people could come here and take everything away just as easily as they could back home. Then what? The Kingdom is no different than Alexandria. The only difference is that no one here knows you. No one here cares about you. No one here loves you. I'm thinking you probably want to keep it that way. You can't get hurt if you sever all ties. It's easier not to care about strangers. But take it from someone who's been there, Carol... being on your own, alone, without a friend in the world? That's no way to live your life."

Carol puffed out a laugh. "Why do you care so much? You don't know me. Do you think you can help me? Fix me? _Cure_ me? I never asked for your help. I never wanted it."

Morgan sighed. "You are undeniably the most infuriating woman I have ever met."

"Good."

The childish response caught Morgan off guard and he laughed. Shaking his head in defeat, he rolled his shoulders and made to leave.

"Morgan," Carol called after him.

Morgan paused, turning back.

"That man who shot me... He was going to kill me, but you stopped him. Why? Why did you kill him?"

"Why did I kill him?" said Morgan. "Because I had to."

"I thought you were against killing," Carol challenged. "I thought to you, all life was precious. Are you turning against your own beliefs now? Is that what you're doing?"

"No. That's not it. I did what I did because you were going to die. I gave that man a choice. He could have walked away, he could have lived. But he chose death. To save your life, I had to take another."

"And what made my life more precious than his?"

Morgan tossed his hands up, letting them fall. "I'm still learning, Carol. I'm still figuring this out. I don't know what's right, I don't know what's wrong. But I know I got to you. I also know you got to me. Maybe we can't live on the extremes anymore. Maybe sometimes you have to kill. And maybe sometimes you don't."

Carol shook her head, exasperated. "How many people did you kill before you lost your damn mind?"

Morgan's eyes were reflective and calm. "Just one," he said. "My son."

Carol felt all annoyance drain away as she stared back at him, stunned. Morgan gave a sad smile, nodded, and turned to leave.

Carol sat alone in her wheelchair as birds chirped above her. She thought about what Morgan had just said. His son. Dead. Another child lost to the madness. Unwanted memories came to her then. She thought of Sophia running into the woods. That had been the last time she had seen her daughter alive. She thought of Lizzie and her knife, covered in her sister's blood. She remembered the feel of the gun in her hand as she raised it, aiming for the back of the girl's head. She could feel the pull of the trigger, and then the gun went off...

The sound of the gates cracking open snapped Carol back to her senses. A large horse-drawn wagon pulled in carrying two men on top, escorted by several patrol guards on horses with spears. People in the school had gathered outside, slowly catching on to what was happening. The wagon rolled in and the courtyard became full of jubilant onlookers.

"No shit, the run team's come back!" Carol heard a younger man say.

"Check it out, they must've hit the jackpot," laughed another.

Indeed the wagon was stacked to the brim with what looked liked a plethora of food, water, medical supplies, and other goods waiting to be put to use. The mood became ecstatic and joyous. Carol was fairly disinterested, until a loud, rumbling, roar vibrated off the walls and into her stomach.

Carol whipped around. There was Ezekiel, standing on the front steps, a great smile beaming off his face. In his hands he held a chain leash, holding back a large, fully grown, growling _tiger._

 _What the hell—?_

People backed away from the steps and looked up towards their King. Ezekiel was patting the tiger's side, speaking soothingly to it. "There, there, Shiva 'ol girl," he cooed. "There, there, that's right." Ezekiel raised his arm out and a silence fell over the crowd.

"Welcome back, dear friends!" he exclaimed. "This is wonderful news indeed! Our run team has returned with many gifts for us all, and we must take advantage of it. As our food supply is already full and abundant, I believe it is fitting that a feast be in order!"

The crowd began to cheer, clapping loudly and whistling. The tiger roared again, agitated by the noise. Carol sat slack-jawed in her chair. The only one frozen in a sea of wild celebration. This had to have been the strangest community she has ever come across.

 _I don't believe it,_ she thought in awe. _Another mad man is running the show._..


	4. Chapter 4

Later that night, the Kingdom was a buzz with excitement. Carol rolled aimlessly down the hallway watching as people filled the halls and marched single-filed into the cafeteria. Carol positioned herself far away from the growing line. She lingered there for a few moments, sighed, then turned herself around back down the empty hall. She kept going, until she passed by the only room still occupied.

Morgan was sitting on his bed, fiddling with his staff. He looked up, noticing his visitor. Carol's voice was small when she spoke. Almost apologetic.

"I didn't know you had a son."

Morgan smiled softly. "Duane. That was his name. He'd be around Carl's age. Maybe a little older."

Carol's throat tightened. "I had a daughter."

"They don't ever leave you, do they?"

"No."

Morgan sighed, staring down at his hands. "I didn't kill him, but I may as well have. It's because of me that he's dead. My mistake cost him his life. The guilt alone is what did me in, is what drove me to madness. I was dangerous. I wasn't human anymore. I killed so many people. It didn't matter who they were. They don't leave you either, the people you kill. Their faces stay with you. But they're not there to haunt you or to torment you. They're there to warn you. To keep you from becoming something you're not. Because only a truly evil person's conscience is ever clear. They don't see the faces. They would never beg for death to ease them from the pain. Because they feel no pain. You're not evil, Carol. You're not a monster. You feel it. You feel the pain everyday. Your humanity hasn't left you."

"And if I have to kill again?" Carol said. "If I have to make that choice?"

"There's only one reason why you would ever kill," said Morgan. "And that's to protect the one's you love."

Carol felt tears spring to her eyes. She didn't even bother to wipe them away. "Then I can't love anymore," she whispered.

"Sorry," said Morgan, "but I just don't believe that."

Feeling incredibly exposed, Carol reversed herself out of the room, wanting to get away as fast as she could.

"Carol."

She paused half way out the door.

"Go to the feast tonight," said Morgan. "Be out there. Eat something. Try to enjoy yourself, even if you don't want to. It's a start, at least."

Carol did not turn back to look at him. She left the room and continued down the hall, in the opposite direction from the cafeteria.

* * *

The hallway was incredibly dark. Moonlight poured in through the windows reflecting off the lockers and floors, giving everything an eerie, bluish glow. The raucous sound of the feast faded into silence the further she rolled away. She just wasn't ready to be with these people. Not yet, anyway. She needed time to think, to process everything Morgan had told her. _You're not evil_ , he had said. _You're not a monster_. She wanted to believe him. She wished with all her heart that that was true.

Carol turned a corner, and to her surprise, saw a man standing there, alone in the darkness. Startled, she gasped, not expecting to see anyone else that night. The man was tall and lanky, with sandy blonde hair and red rimmed eyes. He was leaning up against the lockers, and his face was flushed and sweaty. When he finally took notice of Carol, he gave her an odd sort of grin. "Hello," he said. "Nice wheels." The man must have thought that was funny for he chuckled to himself then.

Carol said nothing. She ignored him as she pushed herself down the hallway.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa— hey, wait a minute now, hold on," said the man, throwing his arm out and blocking Carol's path. The smell of alcohol clung to his breath and Carol blanched. The man was very drunk.

"I think I know you," he slurred. "You the new one, right? You and that black guy? I saw them bring you in. So what'd you do to piss 'em off?"

"Excuse me?" said Carol.

"I over heard those patrol guards talking. You know, the ones that found you. Those dumbasses love to talk so much. It's gonna get them in trouble one of these days, heh." The man smiled wryly with a dry sort of chuckle. "Anyway, they mentioned about a couple of unsavory types out there on the road. Same people you ran into, I reckon. So what'd you do? Must've done something. I mean, look at you. They shot you up like you was swiss cheese!" Carol drew back as the man wheezed out a loud, drunken laugh. "Yep, there's bad people out there, that's for sure," he said. "Some bad... _bad_ people..."

"Is there something you want?" Carol demanded. She was in no mood for this.

"If I were you..." The man leaned in closer now, dropping his voice to a mere whisper. "I wouldn't make any plans on staying here."

Carol felt an icy chill in the air, and she fought back a shiver. The man was smirking, like he knew something she didn't, and it unnerved her. She appraised him closely.

"Why?" she asked.

The man shrugged. "Bad things just happen sometimes. 'Specially when you least except it. You just... well, you just never know, do you?"

Carol stared at him. The man chuckled again, and stumbled backward, almost tripping over himself. "You take care," he hiccuped. "And enjoy your stay..."

Carol watched the man stagger away, down the hallway in the direction she was heading. She sat frozen in her wheelchair unsure of what to do. She suddenly did not want to be alone anymore. What that man had said was so strange... did he mean anything by it? What exactly was he trying to say? A nagging, suspicious feeling was growing in Carol's mind. She quickly shook her head. The man was just a drunken idiot. Even still... he had left her feeling cold and anxious, and the darkness of the hall was slowly closing in. Carol turned around. The wheels squeaked as she rolled herself the other way, back towards the sounds of life, and back towards the feast.

* * *

The cafeteria was spread out with long, wall-to-wall tables, and everyone had a place to sit and eat. Carol sat at the end of the table closest to the exit. Everywhere she looked, people were laughing and talking, smiling broadly at the people next to them, across from them. They were all so happy. So grateful to be there. Carol pushed her food around with a fork, not hungry. No one paid her much attention, except for the occasional glance or two. She didn't belong there. These people weren't her family. Every last one of them could die and she would feel nothing. Is that how she wanted to live the rest of her life, feeling nothing? Emptiness was a feeling, she supposed. Unconsciously, she scanned the room, looking for a familiar face. Looking as if hoping that any one of them might reveal themselves to be someone she knew, someone she loved...

 _Stop it_ , she thought. _Don't you dare go feeling sorry for yourself. This was the choice you made so you're just going to have to live with it. You did it for them, remember? You did it for them_...

A man down the isle caught Carol's eye. She watched him curiously as he approached a young woman, tapping her lightly on the shoulder. The woman turned and her face lit up with joy. The man sat down next to her and produced from behind his back a small white daisy with a tiny yellow center.

A man had given Carol a flower once. He had left it on the counter for her, placing it in a foggy beer bottle. A cherokee rose, he had called it. The words he had spoken, so soft and sincere, so unexpected and beautiful, had given her more strength and hope than she could ever possibly imagine. When she had nearly lost her faith, he had been there to pull her back. He always managed to pull her back...

 _You left them_ , came a cold, harsh voice. _You abandoned them to die. They could all be dead tomorrow, and you would never know_.

She heard the sudden squeal of a woman to her right. A man picked her up, twirling her playfully as another man strummed the guitar and softly sang. The memory of strong arms lifting Carol to safety, carrying her out from the depths of the tombs, flooded her mind like a broken dam. She could feel those same arms around her now, like they had done back at Terminus, when they had hoisted her off her feet in an embrace so welcoming she could not remember a time when she had ever felt so loved...

 _I had to leave_ , she heard her own voice whisper back, meekly. _I can't protect them anymore. They have to understand._

Carol sat there as her vision blurred. In her mind, she saw a man. He was digging a grave. His hair was covering his face, but she could still see the hollow pain in his eyes as he heaved the dirt up from the ground, over and over again. He never looked at her. Too ashamed of himself to do so. That would be the last time she would ever see him again. Is that how she wanted to remember him? Alone and inconsolable, digging a grave? Just digging, digging, and digging...

 _You pushed him away_ , the voice said cruelly.

Dig.

 _I made it easier for him_.

Dig.

 _You don't know what you're doing. You haven't got a clue._

Carol heaved herself from the table, gasping. Several people turned in alarm but she scarcely noticed. Face flushed and eyes burning, she rolled herself towards the door, throwing them open with a loud squeak and leaving the cafeteria behind her.

* * *

Carol found herself alone in the hallway, again. This time, however, she took a different route. She rolled along and paused when she came upon a flight of stairs. She studied them for a while, curious. She decided she couldn't sit anymore. Gingerly, she rose from the wheelchair and took the steps one at a time. For the first five steps, she thought she had done alright. When she had reached the tenth, however, pain began to shoot up her leg, and the old bullet wound was throbbing like mad. _Maybe this wasn't such a good idea_ , she thought. She didn't know what to expect once she made it to the top. When she had reached as far as she could go, she discovered another hallway and hobbled to the closest bench she could find. She sat there, huffing and puffing, the pain in her leg real and miserable. _Yeah_ , she grumbled. _This was a definitely a bad idea._

Something caught Carol's eye, then. Light was emanating from behind a closed door through a glass window. Carol waited for the pain to subside before she rose to her feet, and slowly limped towards it. She opened the door and found herself surrounded by vegetables and plant life. Several bright lanterns sat on the floor, and potted plants hung in rows by hooks overhead. She was in the greenhouse, she realized. She looked out through the high glass windows, and found the balcony she had spotted just earlier that morning. She opened one of the doors and walked out into the night air, stepping up towards the balcony and leaning on the parapet.

Carol looked up. The stars were out and scattered like dust, twinkling softly in the deep blue sky. She knew it was dangerous. She knew she would regret it. But at that moment, she just didn't care.

 _I wonder what everyone is doing right now_...

She thought of Judith, and if anyone remembered the best way to get her to sleep. Rock her in your arms a little and hum a gentle tune. She thought of Carl and how much he had grown. Not a little boy anymore, but a strong, young man. She thought of Maggie and Glenn, and how nervous they must be with their baby on the way. She wondered if they ever thought about Lori. She was sure Maggie did... probably everyday.

She thought about Rick, and if he was disappointed in her. He would be upset, certainly, but he would move on. He had lost people far more valuable than her, after all. She just hoped that in time he would come to understand.

She even thought about Tobin, with a hollow sort of guilt. He was a good man, but she had never loved him. He had only been a distraction. An impulsive move on her part. She had used him, and she hated herself for that. She needed to know if she could still feel something, but what she had shared with him was a lie. He didn't know her. Not the real her, anyway. There was no way he could ever truly understand her, not the way the others did, the way Daryl did...

Carol's breath shuddered in her throat. If there was one person she did not want to think about, it was Daryl. But no matter how hard she tried, she could not keep him from her thoughts. She knew she had hurt him. Back at Alexandria, she thought if she avoided him, if she kept him at arms length, then she would get used to his absence and the pain would not be as great. She had been wrong.

She missed that man. She missed him everyday.

Selfishly, she wondered if Daryl missed her, too. Did he worry about her? Did he wonder where she was? A special bond had formed between them going back since the beginning. He knew her better than anyone, even herself at times, it seemed. That had always frightened her a little. The meaning of their relationship often confused her. Were they just friends? Were they more than that? She would be lying if she said she had never thought about it... the two of them coming together. Daryl had always been such a hard read. She never could figure out exactly how he felt. She supposed none of that really mattered anymore. Whatever they had was over now. She had seen to that.

Thoughts of what could have been gripped at her heart until she choked back a sob. She just prayed that wherever he was, Daryl understood. She prayed he would forgive her. For as she gazed up at the stars, watching them twinkling lazily in the night sky, she knew that nothing she could say or do could ever truly make things right again. They would just have to accept that this was the choice she made.

"It seems you have found my favorite spot in all the Kingdom."

Carol whipped around, gasping. Standing before her was Ezekiel, wearing a bright blue Hawaiian T-shirt and carrying two folded lawn chairs under his arm. He gave her an apologetic look.

"I didn't mean to frighten you," he said.

"I'm sorry," Carol breathed. "I shouldn't be here, I know. I'll see myself out."

"You are not intruding," Ezekiel assured. "But I really don't think you should be standing on that leg." Ezekiel pulled out from under his arm one of the chairs, popping it open and settling it down behind her. He smiled at her, patting the blue and white fabric.

"Please, have a seat."

"I'm alright," said Carol, quickly.

"You have nothing to prove to me," Ezekiel replied. "Not too many people can walk away from injuries like yours and be up on their feet so soon."

Carol eyed him hesitantly. "I feel as though I've been doing nothing but sitting these days."

"I insist. Humor this tired old man, if you please."

A short stare down commenced between the two. Ezekiel was smiling pleasantly at her, his dark eyes twinkling. Carol felt slightly awkward being in his presence. They had not spoken to each other since their first meeting more than a week ago. As she recalled, she had found him rather peculiar then, too. "You are not that old," Carol remarked as she lowered herself into her seat. Ezekiel opened his own chair next to her.

"To be honest, I don't know how old I am," he said as he sat. "In fact, what year is it? Does anyone know anymore?"

"I'm sure someone does," Carol shrugged. "But how old can you be if you can manage a fully grown tiger by yourself?"

Ezekiel chuckled. "Shiva thinks she's still a kitten. She has no idea she could rip that chain out of my hand if she really wanted to. I guess some would say it's the control I have over her. But I like to think our bond is based more on mutual trust."

Carol tapped a finger on her knee, looking away. "It's a little strange," she commented, truthfully.

"More than that," Ezekiel added. "It's down right impractical. Do you have any idea how much a tiger eats?"

"Then why do you keep her? Besides to intimidate people and use her as a weapon."

"Shiva is not a weapon," Ezekiel said. "She is my friend. I keep her because she's family. The only family I have left. I couldn't dream of leaving her now."

Carol felt a strange twinge of guilt at those words. She looked down at her feet, fidgeting.

"Most people own dogs," she mumbled.

Ezekiel barked out a laugh. "I was a zookeeper back in the old days," he said. "A dog now just wouldn't cut it anymore."

 _A zookeeper_? At least things were making sense now.

"And this whole King act?" Carol said, sneering slightly. "Where did that come from?"

Ezekiel gave her long look. For a moment, she thought she might have offended him, but he smiled at her again, appearing amused. "I played King Lear in our local theater troupe, once," he said. "I got rave reviews for it. I guess for me, it just comes naturally."

Carol rolled her eyes a bit, and Ezekiel chuckled.

"If the people want to spread larger than life stories of the man who walks with tigers and rules as a benevolent king to raise morale, then who am I to stop them? I might as well play the part. I'm not trying to deceive anyone. Sometimes you have to fit the role that people give you."

Carol thought on that for a moment, and nodded. Ezekiel's voice took on a softer tone then. "I know we haven't spoken much, since the last time we met. But may I ask you something? Do you plan to return home once you've healed?"

Carol looked at him, surprised. Ezekiel waved a hand appeasingly. "Morgan told me you and he are from a different community. He didn't tell me which one, rest assured, but he did seem rather keen to get back. But you, dear lady... to me, you seem awfully conflicted."

"I just..." Carol could feel the heat of tears as they pooled in her eyes. Blood pounded loudly in her ears, and she dropped her head. "I'm tired of all the pain. The hurt. I'm... I'm no good to them now. Not how I am. I..."

She could see Daryl digging the grave again, despondent in his guilt and grief. Carol wiped the tears from her face. "I know I hurt them," she said. "I know I let them down. I didn't leave because of them, I left _for_ them, to protect them. But I don't think they will understand. I don't think... I don't think they will ever forgive me..."

Ezekiel regarded her closely, his face impassive. When he looked up towards the sky, he suddenly began to laugh.

"I remember the day Shiva was born," he reminisced with a smile. "That had been such an exciting time at the zoo. First tiger born in captivity. I raised her, you know. Her mother rejected her, so it was all put on me. I remember when I could still hold her in my hands. She was such a tiny little thing. I watched her grow and grow. And then one day, no different than any other, I went to feed her, and something happened. She took a swipe at me."

Ezekiel raised up his shirt and Carol's eyes went wide. Four long, angry gouge marks streaked sharply down his stomach. The tracks ran deep and red, and they pulled at his skin in every which way.

"She hurt me, but I know it wasn't out of hatred or malice," he said, lowering his shirt. "Deep down, she is a wild animal. It is just the nature of the beast. I still love her despite it. So you may hurt the ones you love, you may leave them scars... But for someone as beautiful and lovely as you, dear lady... I know they will find it in their hearts to forgive you."

Carol stared at him with bright, tearful eyes. Ezekiel's face was stoic.

"And if they don't, they're bonkers."

First a snort, then a laugh, and Carol was rolling in her seat, giggling uncontrollably. She laughed and she laughed, and it felt so _good._ How long had it been since she had allowed herself to feel this kind of release? She could not remember. It might have had something to do with how physically and emotionally drained she was, but Carol could see now why people trusted this man. There was something disarming about him. Ezekiel had joined in her laughter, and the pair sat there for a while longer, until the giggling and snorting subsided.

"Thank you," Carol sniffed. "I needed that more than you know."

"Anytime," said Ezekiel. "My pep talks usually end in fits of laughter, for most people take me as a joke."

Ezekiel rose from his chair with a groan, his knees popping slightly. "Will you need me to assist you down the stairs, my lady?"

"No, I'm fine," Carol declined. "Thank you for the offer, but I think I will stay here for a while longer."

"As you wish," said Ezekiel. The man gave a low, theatrical bow, and bid farewell.

Carol looked back up at the stars. Things were far from good. In fact, they were the worst they had ever been. But for the first time in a long time, she welcomed hope back into her heart again. Not too much, but just enough to get her through the night. She may forget this feeling tomorrow, and she may forget it in the days to come, but for now, it was plenty. For now, it was enough. Even if all hope were lost again...

...She at least remembered how to laugh.


	5. Chapter 5

"I see them," said Maggie. "Daryl, I see them!"

Daryl came out onto the balcony taking up Maggie's out stretched binoculars. A black car was pulling up to the gate with two figures inside, one of them being Rick and the other Jesus. Daryl sighed.

"About damn time," he said.

"I hope they have something good for us," Maggie whispered. "Rick's note was so vague."

A message had arrived for them two days prior after a month had gone by with hardly a word from anyone. Daryl had been climbing up the stairs, sore and achy after a long day of PT with Dr. Carson, when a young man walked past him, waving.

"Special delivery," he said, slipping a note into Daryl's hand. Daryl was so startled by this, he nearly punched the kid in the face, but the young man kept on walking, not looking back. Confused, he opened the note and read the words on the paper.

 _Jesus and I are coming for you soon. We have a plan. Keep this just between you and Maggie. We'll need her help, too._

 _—Rick_

When he had shown the note to Maggie, the two had debated long and hard over what kind of plan Rick had in mind. Today would be the day they would find out, it seemed.

Daryl and Maggie reached the stairs just as Rick and Jesus came walking through the doors. Rick looked thinner and shabbier than usual, Daryl noticed. His face was lined and tired, and he carried himself as though the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. Things back home must be worse than he thought, and that made Daryl's blood boil. He was done sitting on the sidelines. If Rick had a plan ready, then he was going to be a part of it. He wasn't going to let the others face this threat alone anymore.

He and Maggie were on their way to greet Rick when Gregory came out of the study, bumping into Jesus.

"Jesus, there you are!" he said. "And..."

Gregory's face fell instantly at the sight of Rick. His whole demeanor changed, becoming nervous and tense. He recovered fast, however, forcing on a smile.

"Oh, it's you! Welcome back. And, uh... what is it that brings you here this time?"

Daryl and Maggie's presence seemed to register with him then and he turned around. He glanced from Daryl, to Rick, to Daryl again, before it finally clicked. He looked relieved.

"Ah! You're here to pick up your man, I see! Well, I return him to you as good as new. How fortunate for you that I've graciously allowed your people to take advantage of our meager medical supplies. But that is the kind of man I am. Always willing to help those in need."

The magnanimous airs the man put on was cringe inducing. Jesus rolled his eyes. Rick glared at him. Daryl and Maggie remained stoic. Gregory's smile faltered somewhat when his gaze fell on Maggie. He turned back towards Rick and Jesus, almost pouting. "Oh, come now. I do hope you're not planning on taking Madeline away, too. She has been an absolute delight! I would hate to lose her so soon."

"No, I'm staying here," said Maggie smoothly, not bothering to correct the man. "It's best if I remain with Dr. Carson for now. For the baby's sake, at least."

"I've offered to help Rick get Daryl packed up," Jesus cut in. "They have a long journey back. If you'll excuse us..."

Jesus, Rick, Maggie and Daryl headed up the stairs one at a time, ignoring the slighted look on Gregory's face. They reached Daryl's room and entered inside, Maggie quickly shutting the door behind her. She whirled on Rick then, her eyes heated.

"Before we start, I want to know right now— are we going after that son of a bitch?"

Daryl saw the tired, burdened Rick from down stairs suddenly vanish. The man now radiated confidence and resolve, and he gave Maggie a determined nod.

"We're taking Negan down," he said.

A wide smile spread over Maggie's lips and tears of joy pooled in her eyes. She beamed at Daryl, who nodded back, and for the first time in a long time, the old Maggie was shining through. She began to laugh.

In the days since Glenn's death, Alexandria had submitted fully to the Saviors, doing everything Negan and his men asked of them, no matter how unreasonable or humiliating. They really had no choice. They were out manned and out gunned. Negan's extortion had gotten to the point where they had barley anything left to give, and although the compensation for Alexandria's cooperation was the Saviors promise not to hurt anyone, people were turning up dead. Most recently, Spencer.

"Deanna's son?" said Daryl.

"Yeah," Rick sighed.

Daryl swore under his breath, biting the nail on his thumb.

"So what's the plan, Rick?" said Maggie. "What are you up to?"

"We're devising an assault on Negan, but we're going to need some help. Jesus knows someone who might be willing to lend a hand."

Jesus nodded, looking at the group at large. "I think it's time for me to introduce you to Ezekiel," he said.

Maggie and Daryl exchanged looks. "Ezekiel," echoed Daryl. "Who's this?"

"He's the leader of another likeminded community, and he has his own history with the Saviors," Jesus explained. "And trust me, he hates them just as much as we do. I think he's always wanted to make a move against Negan, but the opportunity never presented itself. I think if we show him that we're willing to take a stand, he'll gladly join forces with us."

"So Alexandria, the Hilltop, and this Ezekiel guy all teaming up on Negan?"

"That's the plan."

"And Gregory agreed to that?" questioned Maggie, quietly. "Somehow I can't imagine him making that deal."

"And you would be right." Jesus sighed then, looking down at his feet and shaking his head. "Gregory doesn't know anything about it. In fact, no one does."

Daryl squinted at him as Maggie looked to Rick. Rick put his hands on his hips.

"We're keeping this quiet for now," he said. "We don't want too many people in on it just yet. The only one's who know about the plan are me, Michonne, Jesus, and the two of you."

"Why's that?" asked Daryl.

Jesus crossed his arms, looking solemn. "We think we might have a spy."

Stunned silence fell over the room. Maggie stared at them, horrified. "At _Alexandria_?" she breathed.

"I don't know who or where they are exactly," Jesus explained, "but way too many coincidences have happened to make us think there must be someone leaking information from the inside. The Saviors know too much."

"Yeah, like what?" Daryl growled.

"Right now, just the small things," said Jesus. "Day to day stuff. But if anything like this gets leaked and Negan finds out, we're going to have a whole lot of shit on our hands."

"Thing is, we think there's more than one," Rick added. "Negan's spies are spread out. They could be anyone. Or be anywhere."

"That kid who gave me Rick's note," said Daryl to Jesus, suddenly paranoid, "you trust him?"

"I do," said Jesus. "I'm not ruling out the Hilltop, but the people I know here I trust with my life. To be honest... I wouldn't be surprised if it were Gregory to rat us out."

"That's where you come in, Maggie," Rick intoned.

Maggie looked up at them. "Me?"

"Gregory hates Ezekiel," said Jesus. "He says it's because he's arrogant, but the truth is, he's afraid of him. Ezekiel is no pushover when it comes to the Saviors. he's shown resistance in the past. Gregory doesn't want to be associated with Ezekiel, even though we trade with him. He thinks whatever defiant move Ezekiel might make on Negan, it will be reflected back on him. That coward would rather sit in this house and live like a slave than do anything that could put an end to all this. We can't trust Gregory. That's why we're going to need you, Maggie. We'll need you to keep an eye on him. Make sure he stays deep in the dark until we finally have everyone on board."

Maggie nodded. "I can do that. But he knows Rick is here with you now. Won't he be suspicious about that?"

"As far as he's concerned, I'm only here to pick Daryl up," answered Rick. "He has no idea we're heading out to meet this Ezekiel right now."

"Alright," said Daryl. "Ain't no sense in waiting around here then, let's go."

"Gregory can't see me leave," Jesus whispered. "I've got to talk to some of my people here, make sure they know to cover me. I'll sneak out after and meet you both by the car."

Jesus left the room and Maggie followed suit. Daryl was on his way out as well before Rick pulled him aside.

"Hey," said Rick. "How are you feeling? You up for this? You good?"

"All I do is sit on my ass, man, get me the hell out of here."

Rick laughed. "It's good to have you back, Daryl."

"Rick..." Daryl hesitated, his eyes beseeching. "Carol?"

Rick let out a slow sigh, planting his hands on his hips. He shook his head. "Nothing," he whispered. "Morgan's missing now, too. He... he didn't come back."

Daryl stared at him for a while, his face going ashen. He blinked a few times, nodded, then turned away.

"Look, Daryl... I know that with everything going on right now you must be—"

"Man, don't."

Daryl paced around a bit, biting his thumb nail as he stared at the hardwood floor. When he stopped, he looked to Rick, his voice softer. "You know, I've been thinking. Maybe this is for the best. Things ain't safe at home, from what you said. People are getting hurt. I mean, here we are, revving up to go to war, maybe... I dunno, maybe she's safe now, where she's at. Maybe she's better off. She... she don't have to be involved in this."

Rick could only stare back at him, his eyes sympathetic. "I'm sorry, Daryl," he said, and he meant it. Daryl nodded again, but didn't look at him. Rick lingered a while longer then left the room, with Daryl following soon after.

Rick was already out the front doors by the time Daryl made it down the stairs. He passed by several Hilltop people as he went, stopping when he saw Helen coming out from one the rooms. She looked up at him and smiled.

"Oh, hey," she greeted. "I thought that was Rick I saw earlier. You going home now?"

"Time to head back," said Daryl.

"Well, don't be a stranger. You're always welcome here, you know. Always."

"Hey, listen," Daryl fidgeted. "I, uh... I wanted to say thanks. To you and Dr. Carson. Having me as a patient, I doubt that was easy."

"It wasn't as hard as you think it was."

"Well," said Daryl, awkwardly. "I should go."

"You behave yourself," said Helen. "Just be careful out there, ok?"

"Yes, ma'am," he nodded, and turned for the door.

"Hey, Daryl."

Daryl was two steps from the threshold when he stopped and looked back. Helen approached him, then. She smiled at him, leaned in, and kissed him gently on the cheek. Daryl froze.

"See you around," she chuckled, and she stepped away, turning back towards the stairs.

Daryl's face turned crimson. He definitely had not expected _that_. Slightly confused, he made to head out the door, only to find to his horror that Rick had been standing there, long enough to have witnessed those last few moments. They stared at each other.

Rick pointed after Helen. "Did she just kiss you?"

"...Yeah."

"What's that about?" Rick smirked.

Daryl shrugged. "Hell if I know, man."

Passing Rick, and ignoring the stupid grin on his face, Daryl marched towards the gate as Rick followed close behind. The guards opened the doors and they were both surprised to see Jesus already standing there, leaning against the car. As everyone got inside, with Jesus in the drivers seat, Daryl saw someone approach them. Maggie was there to bid them farewell and she bent down to Rick in the passenger window.

"Good luck," she said. "All of you."

"Same to you. And take care of that baby."

The car started up and soon, the three men were on the road again. Daryl sat in the back, gazing out the window. He didn't know what to expect, or what would happen, but he felt a nervous excitement bubbling inside him. For some reason, he had a positive feeling about all this. Maybe it was the fact he could be of use again, or because they were heading to a new place, that made him fired up with anticipation. Either way, they had a plan and they were taking action. Maybe this Ezekiel guy would help. Maybe he was exactly who they needed to see.

Hell, maybe some good might come their way, for a change.


	6. Chapter 6

The sun burned brightly in the vast, empty sky. Carol walked into the courtyard basking in the sunlight. The air was warm and comforting. She breathed in, and sighed contently. It was turning into a beautiful day.

Everything was relatively quiet in the Kingdom. She could see a few people strolling about, but activity was low. It was probably for the best. Carol still preferred to be alone these days, but she was getting better. She was starting to make some friends. She was starting to learn their names, at least.

Time moved slowly here, it seemed. It was an odd thing, but she could feel her soul refresh with each passing day, and her nightmares had all but faded into the shadows. This new sense of peace was a strange feeling. She still did not know if she deserved it. She closed her eyes and lifted her face towards the sun. Her scars were far from healed, and her heart was stubborn, but she was trying. She smiled wistfully at the memory of an old conversation she once had with someone. She could still hear his voice, rough and gravelly as he desperately tried to reach to her.

 _"We ain't dead. And whatever happened, happened. Let's start over."_

 _"I want to," she had told him._

 _"Well, you can."_

Carol chuckled to herself, wiping the wetness from her eyes. She hadn't believed him, then. She didn't think it was possible. But something had changed within her lately. Something she could not explain. What Daryl had tried to tell her all those months ago seemed to have finally clicked with her now. Maybe he had been right all along.

Carol stretched her legs, getting used to being back on her feet again. She enjoyed strolling the grounds when she could. She was circling around the back of the school when she suddenly came to a stop.

There was a man creeping along the side of the wall, groping the panels with his hands. He would frequently look back to see if anyone was watching, and it was then that Carol got a better look at him. Something about him seemed awfully familiar. She had seen this man somewhere before. And then it hit her. She remembered his sandy blonde hair and lanky figure from the corridor. It was the same drunken man she had bumped into that night at the feast, nearly a month ago. Carol hid behind a tree, watching him carefully. The man continued to feel around the wall, searching for something, and suddenly, he paused. His hand rested over one crooked plank of wood and he pushed it, revealing a small space for him to crawl through. The man looked back again, nervously, and then he slipped out, closing the plank of wood behind him.

Before Carol realized what she was doing, she was following after him, heading towards the gate. The man had frightened her that night in the hallway. The words he said came back to her then, and she could still remember the cold, anxious feeling he had given her after he stumbled back into the darkness. He was definitely up to something, that much was certain, and she was compelled to find out what. She found the same panel the man had touched and pushed it to the side. She peered out. There was nothing to see but the surrounding woods. Her brass knuckle knife was the only protection she had on her, but it would have to do. There was no time to go back for anything else. Hoping she was making the right decision, Carol took a deep breath, and crawled out from the gate.

Stealth was the key if she wanted to remain unnoticed. She avoided as many twigs and leaves as she possibly could, but the man didn't bother to keep himself quiet. He jogged through the woods in a frenzied pace, and it was then that he halted dead in his tracks. Carol leapt behind a tree as the man whirled around, whipping out a dagger. He stood frozen in place, his eyes scanning the woods. After a pause, he sighed, and headed out once more. Carol followed.

They went deeper and deeper into the woods. She didn't know how much further he was going to go, but she could see up ahead a small clearing through the trees. The man stumbled out and Carol realized they had reached a long stretch of road. That was when another man appeared out of nowhere.

Carol ducked down into a bush, hiding herself behind the leaves. The blonde man reared up, his dagger flying high into the air, as the other man waved him down. "Whoa, whoa!" Carol heard him say. "Easy Trev, it's just me!"

The man exhaled heavily, dropping his knife. He wiped a shaking hand over his brow. "Jesus Christ, man," he panted. "I thought you were one of the dead ones."

Carol could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Something was definitely wrong. A growing sense of dread was taking hold of her, but why? Why did she feel this way? She looked at the other man closely. The side of his face was horribly disfigured, as if it had been burned, and his stringy, dirty blonde hair was slicked back on his head. He was carrying something. Carol moved her head to the left, just a fraction of an inch, and what she saw turned her blood into ice.

Years on the road with the people you love, you tend to recognize the weapons they carry on their backs.

And for Carol, this weapon especially.

He had Daryl's crossbow. But... _how_? Daryl got it back. So what was this man doing with it now? Her mind raced, trying to make sense of it, trying to find a reasonable explanation. No, she was mistaken. That crossbow was just another crossbow. It wasn't Daryl's. It didn't mean anything. The man with the burnt face surveyed the woods around them, making sure they were alone, and as he did, he slightly turned so that Carol's view was straight on his back.

And that was when her world came crashing down around her.

The angel wings adorned the vest were tattered and frayed. The right wing was covered in a dark, brownish stain. Blood. Dried blood. The ground beneath her feet began to tilt. The air became trapped in her throat, and she could no longer breathe. Daryl. Something had happened to Daryl. There was no way he would ever willingly let anyone take his belongings from him, not without a fight, and not without consequences... No. No, no, no. God, no. _Please_ , no. This wasn't real, this wasn't happening...

She was going to be sick.

The man with the burnt face was scratching his chin. "Did anyone see you leave?" he asked.

"No way, man, I was discreet." The lanky man peered up and down the road. "Where are the others?"

"They're coming. I hope you have something useful for us this time, Trevor. We're getting tired of you reporting back with nothing but animal bullshit."

"The dude has a fucking _tiger_ , Dwight!" hissed the man. "That to me is important shit to know!"

"So what do you got?" The man named Dwight raised the crossbow to his shoulder. "I don't want to wait around for the others, just tell it to me here."

The other man, Trevor, let out a breathy laugh."Well, as it turns out, dear King Ezekiel is up to something. Boiler room's not too private anymore, not when you're constantly sneaking down there with your patrol guards for secret little meetings. The dude is so predictable. I swiped the master keys weeks back and hid inside there waiting to catch something juicy like this. And it was worth the wait. Ezekiel is planning to go against Negan."

"What?" The burnt faced man looked suddenly tense. He took a step forward, his eyes blazing. "What do you mean by that? Are you talking about an attack? Are you sure of this?"

"Ezekiel is ordering an increase in all weapons production," said Trevor. "You know, spikes and spears and that kind of thing. But he's also sending run teams out to find more guns and ammo. They don't have much, but it's piling up. Now why would he need so many weapons? It's rather suspicious, if you ask me. Not only that, he's been in contact with someone at the Hilltop, and they ain't talking trade negotiations either. Whatever is going on, it's very hush hush. They are constantly going back and forth."

Dwight grabbed Trevor's shirt, pulling him in. "Did you hear him mention Negan or the Saviors at all during this? How do you know for sure he's planning something?"

The man shoved him off. "How's this for proof, you pushy bastard! Ezekiel got a little passionate in his talk in the boiler room the other day. I heard him say ' _that tyrants end is close at hand_.' Now who the fuck do you think he was talking about, huh? I'm telling you, this is big! The boss man will definitely want to know about this!"

Dwight seemed to stare off into space. His eyes were looking down, darting back and forth, and after a moment, he nodded his head. His hand came up to rest on Trevor's shoulder. "You're right," he said. "This is serious shit. And it's exactly the kind of information I need."

Trevor never saw it coming. Carol stifled a gasp. In a flash of steel, Dwight wrenched out a knife and plunged it deep into Trevor's stomach. Trevor grunted, his eyes going wide with shock. Dwight pushed it in deeper, and deeper, and blood began to pour from the man's mouth. His eyes rolled up into his head and he fell back, hitting the pavement with a sickening thud. Carol sat hunched in the bushes, stunned. She watched as Dwight stood over the man. He examined him with cold, remorseless eyes. "Asshole," she heard him mutter.

Suddenly, more men began to appear on the road. There were five of them, big and mean looking, and they came upon the scene in silent confusion. They stared down at the dead man. "Dwight, what the hell?" said one man, simply. Dwight pointed to Trevor's discarded dagger. "That son of a bitch pulled a knife on me!" he said.

The men looked taken a back.

"What?"

"No shit?"

"Yeah," grunted Dwight. "Worthless traitor."

"What the fuck, man!" Another man said. "So we came all the way out here for nothing?"

"Trevor said he had new information," questioned an older man with a graying beard.

Dwight shook his head. "The Kingdom's no threat to us. That was all bullshit." Dwight kicked Trevor's corpse. "He betrayed us! This was a complete waste of time."

"Well, at least we know," shrugged a dark skinned man. "About the Kingdom, that is. Silver lining, right?"

"Always the optimist, aren't you, Marco?" Retorted the man next to him.

Trevor's eyes slowly opened, and a horrible moaning noise emitted from his mouth. He sat up only to have a crossbow bolt enter through his brain. The dead man fell back dead again.

"I'm never gonna get used to that," Marco remarked. "Seeing someone turn, you know? It freaks me out. Just ain't natural."

"That's the way the world is now," the older man consoled. "Don't be such a pussy about it."

Dwight rolled the crossbow on his back. "I'm going to patrol around a bit. Make sure this fuckup wasn't followed. All of you report back. I won't be long." Dwight headed down the road.

"Dwight, how much longer you gonna wear that vest, man? It's way too big on your scrawny ass. Makes you look like a kid!"

"Fuck you, Bill," Dwight said. The men all laughed.

"Hell, even the crossbow's taller than you, dude!"

The men continued to laugh as Dwight turned left and disappeared without a sound into the woods. The trees and underbrush were so thick Carol could not see where he went. She dared not move though, not even to breathe, as the others still loitered about, some even taking out cigarettes to smoke. Carol must have sat hunched in that position for another twenty more agonizing minutes before the men decided to turn back and return to where they came from. She waited, and waited, until the road was clear at last and the woods were silent once again.

Carol rose to her feet, slowly. A hollow numbness spread over her body. She couldn't move. She couldn't think. All she could do was stare at the dead man lying on the the road. _Move._ she told herself. _Do something_. But she stood there, frozen.

A fear like no other consumed her. It cut through her skin like a thousand tiny splinters. She was shaking, trembling, all the way down to her fingertips. A ringing sound filled her ears. If that man had Daryl's crossbow... If that man was now strutting around in _his_ vest... then there was only one way he could have gotten it off him...

Carol clapped her hand to her mouth. She gagged on the bile in the back of her throat. Something terrible must have happened. Every scenario ran through her head. Alexandria had come under attack or the Saviors took over or a huge battle took place and now every one of her friends were dead. Rick was dead, Michonne was dead, Glenn was dead, Maggie was dead, all of them were dead. She was losing it.

 _No!_ she told herself. _They would never let that happen!_ But the evidence was there in Dwight's hands. It was right there, slapped on his back. _He's not dead_ , Carol convinced herself. _Daryl is not dead!_ But there was only one way to know for sure. Only one way to know what became of her friends. Carol found her footing and turned on her heels. She only hoped it wasn't too late.

The trees whipped past her as she ran through the woods. Her mind tried to process everything that had happened. That man she had followed had been a spy. He was working for the Saviors. But Dwight had killed him. Why? What was the point of that? And why did he lie to the others? Nothing about it made any sense. The only thing she was certain of was Dwight was the man who killed Denise. He was the man who betrayed Daryl.

And was he the man who killed Daryl, too?

 _Don't think that!_ But she had to be realistic. There was a lot of blood on that vest. Anything could have happened. Any horrible, possible thing. She didn't know. She hadn't been there.

And there it was. The cold, hard truth came at last. It struck her hard like a slap to the face.

She hadn't been there. She had left them. If she had been with them, if she had stayed, could she have helped them? Could she have made a difference? She had back in Terminus. What if she could have done something? What if she could have saved them? The woods became a blur as tears welled in her eyes. If Daryl was dead... if he was gone for good, and she could have stopped it...

 _Oh dear God, what have I done?_

It took her breath away when she suddenly ran headlong into a solid body. With a cry, Carol raised her knife, but the man knocked it from her hand with a long, wooden staff. She looked up. It was Morgan.

The man's eyes blazed with anger. "How long are you gonna keep doing this, Carol?"

"What?"

"I saw you," he said. "I watched you sneak out the wall, out from that broken plank. Is this how you want to live the rest of your life? You just gonna keep running away?"

"Morgan—"

"When are you gonna face your problems? I know you wanna live. But if you do this, if you run away again, there ain't nothing out there but death for you, I guarantee it—"

" _Morgan_!"

A crow cawed out in the distance. Carol and Morgan stared at each other. "I need you to listen to me," she told him. "We don't have time. We might even be too late. But we need to go back. We need to go back right now!" Carol ran past him, not bothering to wait.

"The Kingdom is this way," Morgan called after her. Carol shook her head.

"I'm not going to the Kingdom!" she yelled at him.

"Then where the hell are you going?" Morgan cried out.

Carol turned around, her eyes steadfast and burning. "Back to Alexandria!"


	7. Chapter 7

"Who exactly are we waiting for?"

Rick paced around restlessly as Jesus stood with binoculars up, facing west. "The patrol guards," said Jesus. "I know their schedule pretty well. They should be here soon."

Daryl grunted from the car. "Why do we need 'em anyhow? Let's just go."

"I would not advise that," Jesus warned. "You cannot enter the Kingdom without an escort."

"They know you, right?" said Rick. "You're friendly with them?"

"Yes, but I'd rather not piss them off and break their rules. Ezekiel would consider that rude."

The three men were standing at a blockade in the middle of the road. They drove as far as they could before they hit the barrier constructed of old truck tires, concrete blocks, and spikes fashioned out of tree branches. It wasn't very tall and there was plenty of room to get around, but Jesus had insisted on prudence. And so, they waited. Behind the barrier was a small ghost town filled with little shops, restaurants and ma and pop stores. Rick continued to pace, hands on hips, wiping the sweat from his brow with his shoulder. Jesus was relaxed and unconcerned as he kept watch down the road. Daryl leaned against the car, arms folded and looking bored.

Jesus made a victorious sound. "Right on the money," he said. Rick and Daryl were instantly alert, moving in Jesus's line of sight. Behind the blockade, two men on horseback were heading towards them, each one carrying a long spear and wearing what appeared to have been riot gear. The one rider spotted the three first, raising his spear threateningly.

"Who are you? Stay where you are! You are trespassing on the sovereign land of—"

"Scott," said the other rider, lazily. "Relax man, it's Jesus."

The man named Scott blinked then smiled. "Oh, hey Paul! Welcome back!"

"Scott's the only one I know who still calls me Paul," Jesus mentioned fondly to Rick and Daryl. The other two stared back at him, stone-faced.

"Right," said Scott, "who are your friends, Paul?"

"This is Rick Grimes, leader of a peaceful community, and Daryl Dixon, his companion," Jesus introduced. "We are requesting an audience with King Ezekiel."

The second rider moved in, his voice more authoritative. "He is expecting you," he announced. "Please follow us. We will escort you back to meet with our King."

Jesus nodded and he, Rick, and Daryl squeezed through the barrier, trailing behind the guards. Rick leaned towards Jesus. " _King_ Ezekiel?" he whispered.

"Yeah. I know how that sounds, but I promise, he's not a nut job. He just likes to be... theatrical. Try to play along."

They continued to walk through the deserted town, the soft clip-clop of the horses hooves the only sound to be heard. Rick and Daryl strolled side by side as they kept several paces back.

"Hey," said Daryl. "How is everyone? Carl, Little Asskicker, how're they holding up?"

Rick chuckled softly to himself. "It's been a while since you've called her that," he said.

Daryl smirked, shrugging his shoulder a bit.

"They're ok," answered Rick, after a moment. "Carl, he's... he's pretty mad at me."

"Nah," Daryl assured. "Not at you."

"He wants us to fight back and he thinks I'm giving up. I couldn't tell him. Not about this, not about the plan. It's not that I don't trust him, it's just... I'm trying to protect him. Michonne is doing her best to keep the peace. Abraham and the others... they're itching for a fight."

"Good," Daryl growled. "'Cause that's exactly what they're gonna get."

Rick nodded, and the two fell silent again, contemplating their future in the battle ahead. They turned a couple of streets until they saw high walls circling the perimeter of some large structure. Scott on the horse looked to Rick and smiled. "Welcome to the Kingdom," he said as the wall began to open for them. Rick and Daryl entered inside, their eyes exploring their new surroundings. A large, brick building with a courtyard greeted them, and people were strolling about watching them curiously. The place looked like a school, converted now into a safe haven for many people, it seemed. The two riders got off their horses. Scott took both animals by the reins and waved goodbye as he headed for the stables. The other rider nodded curtly to Rick.

"King Ezekiel waits in the auditorium," he said. "Please, follow me."

Rick and Daryl exchanged looks, then followed Jesus and the rider into the school.

The auditorium doors opened with a piercing squeak. The room was large and dark, with long rows of cushy red seats facing towards a grand stage draped by heavy, blue curtains. A single light shown down on the center of the stage. A man was sitting in an elaborate chair, his dark skin contrasting greatly against his white dreadlocks and beard. He wore a thick coat, heavy boots, and feathers were tied back in his hair. In his hand was a long, bulky chain. As Jesus, Rick and Daryl approached, the man stood, extending out an arm. Jesus smiled up at the man, but what Rick and Daryl saw at the end of the chain made them both stop dead in their tracks.

"Jesus, my old friend, it pleases me to see you return safe and sound. And are these the new allies you've promised me?"

"Yes, your majesty, this is..." Jesus turned and saw that Rick and Daryl remained frozen on the spot, staring slack-jawed up on stage, their eyes wide as saucers and faces paler than milk. Jesus looked down and swore under his breath, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

"Shoot. sorry Rick, I forgot to mention..."

The animal rose to his feet next to Ezekiel and stretched, its large mouth opening to reveal long, pointed teeth. It roared as it yawned, the noise reverberating off the stage and into their ears. The chain around its neck clinked as yellow eyes pierced into the newcomers below.

"I forgot to mention," Jesus repeated, "but Ezekiel has a tiger."

* * *

All Carol could think about was fire. The houses in Alexandria burning up like a match and the bodies of her friends strewn on the ground.

"Carol."

Or maybe Alexandria was fine and it was only Daryl who had been attacked. Did they ambush him in the woods, while on a hunt?

"Carol, wait."

What if Daryl had returned home, found out about her leaving, and then gone after her? What if he ran into them on the road, like she had done, and they got him there? No, she couldn't live with herself if it were true...

"Carol, _stop_!"

Morgan launched a hand out and grabbed Carol by the crook of her arm. Carol whirled on him. "What the hell's the matter with you?" she spat. "Aren't you the one who wanted to go home?"

"You're not thinking this through," Morgan hissed.

"Were you not listening? That man was wearing Daryl's vest. I saw him with _his_ crossbow. Don't you know what that means? It means something happened back home— something terrible— to him, to the others, to Alexandria..." Carol ran her hands through her hair, staring down at her feet. She blinked a few times, her eyes gazing skyward, and she sniffed. "I thought I could live with it," she confessed. "I thought I could go on the rest of my life not knowing what became of them, but I can't. If they're dead, if _he's_ dead, then I have to know. I just have to know!"

"That's enough," Morgan said. "You're gonna stop and listen to me now. Let's say Alexandria is under siege. What the hell are you planning to do? You only have a knife. It's a day's journey back home on foot, maybe more. If you're worried about Daryl, if you're worried about your friends, then you're gonna need some help."

"I don't have time for this!" Carol shrieked.

"You're scared, I get that!" Morgan said. "I'm scared, too. But we need to be smart about this. We're gonna need horses, for one. Weapons. Even if we weren't planning to fight anyone, we'll need something to protect ourselves. But what we really need is someone on our side. The Kingdom trades with the Hilltop, we know that much for certain. If anything happened back home, chances are, the Hilltop would have told Ezekiel. Hell, he might know more than we do at this point."

"Or he knows nothing, and we'd just be wasting time."

"That spy said Ezekiel is planning to attack Negan, right?" Morgan said. "Then we already know we have an ally in him! You need to tell him what you heard, what you saw. If you tell him, he'll listen to us. He'll be more inclined to help us. I don't think you give him enough credit. Ezekiel is a smart man. He knows more than you think."

Carol was breathing fast. What Morgan said was true, but even Ezekiel could not answer her more immediate questions. Was Daryl safe? Was he alive? She found herself shaking at the very thought of the answer. She realized, however, that her worry and fear for what became of Daryl was clouding her better judgement. She stared down at the knife in her hand. She looked at herself, wearing only a tank top and old tennis shoes. Morgan was right. They needed to be smart about this. Carol closed her eyes, taking several calming breaths.

"Come back to the Kingdom," Morgan pleaded. "We'll find Ezekiel, he'll tell us what he knows, and we'll make a plan from there."

Carol opened her eyes again. "Ok," she nodded. "Ok, but let's hurry."

* * *

Ezekiel was stroking the top of Shiva's head as Rick explained to him everything that had happened at Alexandria since the night Negan and his men trapped them on the road to the Hilltop. When he got to the part with Glenn, Rick could not bring himself to finish. He choked back on his words, and fell silent. Ezekiel closed his eyes. "The man is a menace," he said. "Jesus knows all too well how deep my hatred for him goes. It makes me wonder at times what his soul was like before the world had ended. Was he always like this? A madman? Or did the new world turn him into what he is today?"

"I don't think I ever want to understand him," Jesus said. "Everything is upside down now. People like him, they're the ones who run the show."

"Yes, I'm afraid so," Ezekiel sighed. "The world is grown so bad, that wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch." Ezekiel leaned back in his chair, shaking his head as Shiva licked the ends of his fingers. Rick looked to Daryl. Daryl nodded back, silently. "Ezekiel," Rick began, "I'm not asking you to fight our battles for us. We have many people back home who would be willing to assist in the war against Negan, to put an end to his madness, but we cannot do it alone. I only ask for your help."

Ezekiel smiled broadly, standing up from his chair. "And you shall have it, Rick Grimes. Too long have I been biding my time, waiting for the right moment to move against these devils. I crowned myself king in order to protect the people of my kingdom, to make their lives better, and I cannot do that with the looming threat of Negan and his men so close to home." Ezekiel began to laugh. "Fate has brought us all together today! And not just you, my new friends. Would you believe we have another visitor, one with far more insight on the matter than ourselves? He comes with invaluable information, and I know with his help, we will all succeed in our task to right the wrongs that have befallen so many innocent people."

Ezekiel turned from his chair, facing the curtain on stage left. Daryl and Rick looked at each other, confused. Even Jesus seemed unsure on what was happening.

"Come on out, weary traveler," Ezekiel boomed. "Make your presence known."

Rick and Daryl looked up. The curtain drew apart. And out from the shadows, out from nowhere, came a man with a half burnt face. A man with stringy blonde hair, slicked back on his head. The room fell deathly silent.

"Everyone," Ezekiel beamed. "I'd like you all to meet Dwight."

* * *

Carol and Morgan returned to the Kingdom to the bemusement of the young guard on gate duty. "Did you two sign out?" He called down to them, flipping through his little sheet. "Hey, you didn't sign out!" Carol ignored the man as she ran to the school. Morgan waved to him. "You've got a breach in the back wall," he said. "One of the planks is broken. Maybe you people aught to look into that."

"What are you talking about? What plank? Hey, stop that man!"

Carol turned around to see two guards blocking Morgan's path. She looked to him, desperately. "You go on," he told her. "I'll meet up with you, just go!" Carol nodded, and continued back towards the school, running up the steps and throwing the double doors open.

The hallway was bright and empty. Carol didn't know where to go. Ezekiel could be anywhere in this place, and she didn't have time to look through every single room. If that's what she had to do, then so be it. But it would be nice if she didn't have to. Carol decided that the best place to start was the greenhouse. That was his favorite spot, after all.

Carol ran down the hall and turned the corner, heading for the stairs. She stopped as she saw a man in riot gear walking from the other direction. He stared at her. "Is everything all right, ma'am?" he asked.

"Where's Ezekiel?" Carol huffed, out of breath. "I need to speak with him."

"King Ezekiel, ma'am."

"Yes, yes," Carol said, impatiently. "King Ezekiel. Please, can you tell me where he is? It's urgent."

The patrol guard regarded her for a moment. "Whatever it is, you can leave a message with me and I'll be sure to relay it back to him."

"No!" Carol yelled. "No," she repeated, calmer this time. "It's extremely important that I speak with him. What I have to say isn't something that can be left in a message. Please, can't you help me? I must speak with him."

"Is someone hurt?" Asked the guard.

"Yes," Carol answered. "No. I don't know. Maybe."

The guard looked uncomfortable, but nodded to her. "King Ezekiel cannot be disturbed at the moment, I'm afraid. When he is available, and the auditorium is clear, you can speak freely to him then."

"The auditorium?"

"Ma'am," said the guard, "I think you should come with me."

Carol could duck under his arm and make a run for it. But he was stronger, and faster than her, no doubt. She would have to play along.

"Ok," she said. "Ok, yes. Yes, you're right."

Carol followed the guard down the hallway. She wondered how much longer she would have to play the part of the obedient, fragile woman. They passed a clock on the wall, and it reminded her that time was short. Anxious beyond measure, Carol tried to come up with another plan, until the sound of running feet caught her attention. Both she and her guard looked up to see a second man in riot gear heading straight towards them.

"Scott?" said her guard, bewildered.

"Oh man, you need to get out here quick," said the younger guard. "We're gonna be in so much trouble, dude."

"What are you talking about?"

"The new guy told the kid on gate duty there's a breach in the back wall," said Scott. "Well, he ain't kidding. A plank is loose. Anyone can get in and out of there. We gotta get this fixed right now."

"Shit." The older guard looked to Carol apologetically as he made her sit on a small bench. "You wait right here, ok, ma'am?"

"Ok," said Carol, meekly. The guard put his hand on her shoulder. "Everything's going to be just fine. We'll get this sorted out and I'll be right back, understand?"

"You're too sweet," she said, patting his hand gently. The guard smiled then followed the other man back down the hall in a quicken pace. Marveling at her own dumb luck, Carol got to her feet and turned in the opposite direction. She ran as fast as she could, heading now for the auditorium.


	8. Chapter 8

Daryl could not remember how he got to the stage. He could not remember who yelled for him to stop. He even forgot about the fucking tiger sitting behind him. All he could remember was the rush of his fist connecting hard with Dwight's face.

The room broke out in a cacophony of shouting and cursing. The blow of the punch was so great, it had Dwight hitting the floor with one swing. Daryl jumped on top of him, pinning him to the ground, as he threw punch after punch into the man's face. Blood splattered from Dwight's mouth. By the third punch, his nose was broken. Daryl didn't care.

He wasn't just Dwight anymore. He was the Governor. He was Joe. He was Len, and the rest of the Claimers. He was the Termites. He was Negan. He was everyone who ever tried to hurt him, who ever tried to hurt his family and friends. Each punch was like a shot of revenge. For Denise, for Glenn, for Carol, for every person he came to love in his life that had been taken away from him. In that moment, he saw fury in its purest form. Every color had vanished. All he could see was red.

"That's enough!" Someone wrapped their arms around him and pulled him back, but Daryl sent an elbow straight into their gut. They recovered quickly, for in a blinding flash of searing pain, a hand came up and yanked on his injured shoulder catching him off guard and he was ripped away from Dwight and wrestled to the floor by Jesus.

Dwight scrambled to his knees, nursing his bloody nose, then stopped at the sudden click of the Colt Python above his head. Rick was standing over him now, his face contorted in rage. "Give me a reason, you ugly son of a bitch!" he shouted.

Suddenly the room rumbled with a thunderous roar. Everything stopped at once. Rick looked up, Dwight fell back frozen, and Jesus and Daryl paused in their tussle match. Shiva's ears were flat on her head and her lips curled back in a horrible snarl. Ezekiel held her close, patting her sides soothingly.

"Gentlemen, there is a tiger in the room. Please do not agitate the tiger. And do not agitate me."

"This man killed our doctor!" Rick yelled. "Our _only_ doctor! He tried to kill Daryl! He shot him point blank in the back!"

"Please, I shot him in the shoulder. I knew what I was doing."

"MAN, FUCK YOU!" Daryl was on his feet now, shoving Jesus off him. "You knocked me out, tied me up, pulled a gun on me, stole my shit! After I tried to help you! You threw me and my friends in that van, you lead us straight to that psycho! Why should I believe anything you say to me?!"

"Because I know shit that you don't!"

The auditorium rang with a heavy silence. Everyone was breathing fast, and the tension in the air crackled like electricity. Rick was still standing with his gun pointed at the man. His hand shook, like it took every effort in him not to pull the trigger.

"Rick," Jesus pleaded. "Let's just hear him out. Let's hear what he has to say first."

"You best listen to him, Rick Grimes," said Ezekiel. "And you as well, Mr. Dixon. I would prefer there be no more bloodshed in my kingdom tonight."

Daryl trembled from head to foot with suppressed rage. He caught Rick's eye and they shared a look. "Yeah, I'll hear him," said Rick softly, returning his gun to his holster. "It's not my life on the line today." Rick stepped back and planted himself next to Daryl. The two men glared at Dwight as he rose to his feet, spitting out a mouthful of blood.

"Well, then!" said Ezekiel, pleasantly. "Clearly you all know each other."

"I came here to ask Ezekiel for his help," Dwight began. "Just like you all did. Has it ever occurred to you that I just might hate Negan more than you?"

"You're his henchman," spat Rick. "You work for him, you kill for him. Why do the bidding for a man you hate?"

"I had no choice!" Dwight shot back. "None of you have any idea what I've been through, what I had to do to survive."

"I GAVE you a choice!" Daryl shouted. "I offered you a way out! You returned the favor by sticking a gun in my face!"

"And I paid the price for it!" Dwight pointed at his burnt cheek, the disfigured skin charred and ugly. "This is what Negan does to his people. And it had nothing to do with me running away."

"Yeah, it's an improvement," Daryl growled.

Dwight glared back at him, his jaw muscles bunching. "Did I make a mistake? Of course I did. I should have trusted you, I get that now. I got that as soon as they caught us after we left you in the woods."

"Then why'd you try to kill me?!" Daryl snapped. "Out on them tracks, when you ambushed us, when you killed Denise!"

"It was either you or her, man! Or that other one, Rosita. Negan knows how to punish his men. To keep me in line, to make sure I stay under his thumb, he put me in charge. I had to be his solider. I had to play the part and make the others believe it. If I don't do what he says, if I don't follow his orders, then he'll..." Dwight gritted his teeth, shaking his head in frustration.

"So we're supposed to just trust you now, is that it?" said Rick, harshly. "How do we know this isn't a trap? How do we know you're not setting us up?"

"Negan has my wife!" Dwight looked pointedly at Daryl then. "That woman I was with, the one you met? She's my wife, man. He'll hurt her if I don't do what he says. You get that? He'll hurt her!"

Daryl's face showed no hint of remorse or compassion. She pointed that gun at him, too. She made her choice, just as Dwight did.

"None of you know how much I've risked just coming here," said Dwight. "Don't you wonder why you found me on the run in the first place? I've never been in support of Negan. He knows that, that's why I've had to do all that I've done to make him think I'm his. But I killed one of his spies today. He lived right here at the Kingdom. He knew about Ezekiel's intentions for war. I stopped him before he could tell anyone. So you see, you need me. I know the enemy. I know how they operate, I know all their secrets. I can tell you Negan's secrets... his weaknesses... I can help you end this nightmare, once and for all, if you would only just trust me."

Everyone was quiet as they took it all in. Daryl looked to the others. Rick was still glaring at Dwight, but his expression was far more curious now than hostile. Jesus was neutral as he stared at Ezekiel, who wore a small but determined smile on his face. Daryl balled his hands into fists.

"Nah," he growled. "Nah, I don't believe you. Everything you just said, everything you gave us is bullshit! You shot me in the back! You tried to kill me twice! You dragged Glenn out, you let that asshole beat him to death! And I'm supposed to trust you? No! You killed my friend with my own weapon, you stupid son of a—" Daryl stopped, noticing for the first time what Dwight was wearing over his shirt.

It was the last straw. Daryl grabbed Dwight by his own vest, the one he had stolen from him, and punched him square in the jaw. "Daryl, stop!" Jesus was on top of him again, pulling him back, and this time he had Rick to help him.

"Where's my crossbow?!" Daryl snarled. "I want my crossbow back, asshole!"

In the midst of the fighting and shouting, no one heard the squeak of the door opening in the back of the auditorium.

Jesus and Rick hauled Daryl off Dwight. Daryl shoved them back, swiping an arm out. "Go to hell, all y'all!" he bellowed. "He's playing us, can't you see that? I don't want any part of it! Fuck this shit, man!" Daryl turned and walked out, taking the stairs and not looking back. Jesus was starting to go after him but Rick shook his head. "No, let him go."

Daryl stomped down the aisle between rows of cushioned seats. He was furious. Furious at Dwight, furious that Ezekiel would trust him, and furious at himself for having second thoughts about the man. No. Dwight had made his life a living hell ever since he met him in those woods. There was just too much bad blood between them. He trusted him once and it bit him in the ass. Any trust that could have been was broken now. He could never forgive him for that. Not in a million years.

So lost in his own fury and rage, he almost didn't notice the person standing there by the door. It startled him somewhat to see the figure of a woman. He thought it was a woman; it was so dark in there, it was hard to tell. But the figure was small and slim, and she was just standing there, watching him. Daryl was going to pass her and ignore her, but he didn't. He stopped. He looked at her, and all sound and noise faded from the room. The blood drained from his face and he felt as though a hand had plunged deep inside him and ripped the air from his lungs. It wasn't just some woman.

It was Carol.


	9. Chapter 9

They stood before each other, eyes locked in stunned silence. Carol's chest felt so tight it was hard to breathe. She realized then that she was in shock. Her eyes scanned Daryl's face a thousand times over. She had almost convinced herself that he was dead, that he was gone forever, so to see him standing there, alive and well, felt beyond unreal. She would have collapsed with relief if not for the paralyzing hold upon her.

The last thing she had expected to see when she threw those doors open was the scene unfolding on the stage. There was Ezekiel, holding back a growling tiger. Dwight, the man from the woods, lying flat on his back with a bloody face. And Rick, along with another man, wrestling with someone who Carol could not see.

She had heard his voice first, loud and enraged, and for one wild moment, she thought herself mad. And then she saw him. She watched him, unable to move or speak, as he trudged down the aisle towards her. He looked at her once, twice, then froze. Froze because it dawned on him. Froze because he saw her, too.

And there they were. From miles away to feet apart.

She had so many questions. What was he doing here? How did he find this place? Daryl was staring at her with the roundest eyes. He was breathing fast, his chest rising and falling, making no noise, no sound. Confusion was written on every plane of his face. He began to blink, and Carol could see the boy in him again; so lost and so vulnerable, that her heart ached to touch him. She wanted to reach to him, to hold him, but she couldn't. Her heart skipped a beat as she thought she saw the faintest of smiles ghost his face. And then it happened.

His breathing slowed. His wide eyes narrowed. He straightened himself, going very still. Carol could see it. Slowly, horribly, that confusion turned into hurt. Hurt turned into anger. And anger, at last, became indifference.

He took two steps towards her. His strong body inches from hers. He didn't speak. He didn't say a word. Carol stared at his face. There was no emotion behind his eyes anymore. No softness. No relief. Only apathy. The silence stretched between them. After what felt like an eternity, Daryl at last looked away. He shook his head, and walked past her. She could feel a slight breeze as he went. It sent shivers down her back and her eyes filled with tears. She remained there, frozen, even as she heard the auditorium door slam shut behind her.

 _Oh no._

She had told herself some time ago that if the others hated her, then so be it. She could understand. She even expected them to. But him?

No. Not him.

She had to remind herself that he was alive. That him being mad at her, hating her, was better than him being gone for good. There was still time to explain. To make him understand. She turned around. The double doors squealed open as she pushed them. She followed them out into the hallway, and found herself alone.

Carol looked around. The long, white hallway was empty and quiet. She turned right, taking the shorter end, and jumped at the sudden bang of a door. Carol felt her palms sweat and she swallowed. She was afraid. Afraid of what would happen next. She slowly made her way towards the banging sound and reached an exit door. When she opened it, she was outside. The roof inclined like a lean-to, and long stairs led to the back courtyard. The sun was hanging low in the sky now. It lit up like a flame, casting everything it touch in a bright, orangish glow.

She found Daryl with his back to her. He was leaning against the railing, head down, with his arms hanging loosely over the side. Carol took a hesitant step forward. Daryl was wearing clothes she had never seen on him before, she noticed. It reminded her of the man in the woods, with his crossbow and vest. It reminded her that something had happened, and she realized then just how ignorant she was of the world outside of the walls of the Kingdom. She wondered what horrible thing she would learn today.

Daryl's back rose from the railing. He stood up straight, staring ahead, then slowly turned to face her. He didn't speak. He didn't even blink. He just stared at her.

And he waited.

Carol's heart pounded in her chest. "I never meant to hurt you," she said. They stood about ten feet away from each other, but it felt more like a thousand. She cringed at how pathetic she sounded, how scared and cowardly she felt for wanting to turn and run away. But she owed him the truth. He deserved to know that much, at least. "I couldn't be there anymore," she confessed. "If we were ever attacked again, like with the Wolves... if people came and wanted to hurt us, wanted to hurt _you_... then I would have to kill them. I was done with it. I had reached my limit. I just couldn't do it anymore. And if I couldn't kill, not even to protect the ones I love, then what good was I to anyone? I was a liability. I just would have put you all in harm's way."

Carol stared down at her feet, blinking away the sting in her eyes. When she looked back up again, daring a glance, Daryl's face remained the same. Expressionless. Emotionless. Only his eyes showed the storm brewing beneath the surface.

"Do you think it was easy for me?" she said. "To leave everyone behind? I have so much blood on my hands. Everything was adding up. I was beginning to regret it, all the lives I had to take. And it was killing me. You wouldn't know it, though... no, not you. You don't know what it's like to have to _live_ with yourself."

"I don't, huh?"

Carol felt a pull at her heart. Daryl was shaking now. It was the first thing he had said to her since they found each other, and the pain in his voice was so visceral, Carol had to take a step back. "You think I don't know what that's like? To have someone die because of you?"

"That's not what I said..."

"Then what is it?!" Daryl moved one step forward, his eyes blazing. "We've all done shit we ain't proud of, all of us! That don't give you an excuse to run away!"

"You don't know half of what I've done." Carol felt a fire burn inside her now. He wasn't going to trivialize this. Make her feel foolish and over dramatic.

"You've killed people and I've killed people," he said. "But what about the lives you've saved in the process? You slaughtered Terminus for us! Do you regret that, too?"

"No, I..." Carol swallowed back the hard lump in her throat. She felt as though she had been slapped in the face. "How could you say that?"

"I'm just trying to get my facts straight," he said. "You're the one who said you wouldn't kill again, not even to protect the ones you love. I would kill a thousand people for you!"

"I would never want you to do that!" This was going wrong. So very wrong. One of them was bound to say something they would regret and she didn't know how to stop it. Daryl began to pace, staring down at the floor.

"I would," he choked out. "You know I would..."

Carol ran her hands over her face. "There's just so much you don't understand," she whispered. Daryl looked up. "Understand?" he stared at her, indignant. "You telling me that I don't understand?"

"Daryl..."

"You don't have _any_ idea what we've been through! What happened to us, what happened to..!"

Daryl froze. His face turned pale as death as he backed away, his eyes becoming bright and large. Carol could hear his ragged breath, the short, quick gasps of air as he faced the floor again. Something dropped in her stomach then. Something heavy and large that left a hollow emptiness in its place. Cold fear consumed her heart. _What happened?_ she wondered in silence, and tears began to flow from her eyes. She watched as Daryl shook his head again, as though the pain of it tore him up inside. He looked at her.

"Glenn's dead," he whispered.

Everything seemed to fall away from her. Carol's hands rose to her chest, to her neck, and then to her mouth. No. It wasn't true. But all she had to do was look at Daryl's face. She had never seen him look so distraught, so broken, in all the years she had known him. "How?" was all she could manage.

"Negan," he croaked. "He did it. He's real." Daryl's face grimaced in rage as he stared away from her. "I was locked up in that van with Glenn," he began. "With Michonne, and Rosita... and they dragged us out and put us on our knees. There was Rick, and Carl, and Maggie... Maggie was sick. They needed to get her to a doctor, to the Hilltop... because that _son of a bitch_ killed ours..!" Daryl balled his hands into fists, steadying his voice. "They had us all lined up. And he pulled Glenn out. He had this baseball bat... wrapped in barbed wire..."

"No..."

"He stood over him. Like he'd done it a hundred times before. And he beat him to death with it."

"Stop—"

"He crushed his skull in, and he laughed. They all laughed..."

"Please no, _stop_!"

Carol kept the bile down as she hunched over on her knees. The world began to spin, but she fought the urge to crumble. She thought of Maggie. Thought of all the people she had lost and how on earth she would come back from this. She thought of the baby, and how it would grow up never knowing its father. She thought of Carl and Judith. Of what would become of them if anything should happen to Rick. She thought of Daryl and what he had seen. She looked at him and he was trembling.

"He was right there..." Daryl sobbed. "Right in front of me. And I couldn't help him. I couldn't... I couldn't stop it..."

Carol reached a hand to him, to touch him, but he pulled away. "No," he whimpered. "No, you don't get to do that! You don't get to just... just run off and take the easy way out! You say you have blood on your hands? So do I! Denise, Glenn... but I ain't gonna walk away and leave in the dead of night, abandoning everyone and everything that's still worth a damn to me!"

"I did what I did to protect you, to protect _all_ of you!"

"NO, YOU RAN AWAY! If you didn't wanna fight, you should've said something! It didn't have to come to this. You could've told us! You could've told _ME_!"

"You don't get it at all, do you?!" Carol yelled. "To sit by the wayside, to not fight— No one can do that now! I would kill every last man or woman who'd ever try to hurt us, and I've done that, time after time again! I've killed so many people! And it was _destroying_ me, tearing me down from the inside out! I killed Karen and David!" Carol's voice rang out like an echo as her chest rose and fell with each breath. For the very first time, she had spoken their names to him. "And for what?" she said. "For being sick? That was only the beginning. Have you ever had to kill a child?"

Daryl stared back at her, stunned. His face went pale again. Carol nodded. "I have," she whispered. "Not a walker, but a living, breathing child. You don't know what that's like... what that does to you. To your soul. You think I'm a monster, don't you? I can see it. The look in your eyes says it all."

"I've never thought that about you," he said. "That don't change now."

"Of course it _does_ ," she spat. "Don't you dare tell me you didn't notice what I had become. You're observant. You know. Or maybe you didn't want to know. I'm not the only one who kept their distance. You could've tried harder with me. You could've done more to help!"

"I gave you space," Daryl shot back. "Ain't that what you wanted?"

"I don't know what I want anymore. Except for you to stop thinking this is all about _you_ , that I would purposely do what I did to hurt you, to hurt the others!"

"How do you want me to think?! Like I'm _glad_ you turned your back on us?!"

"I left _for_ you, not because of you! How many times do I have to explain that before you finally get it?!"

"Just tell me this," Daryl sneered, getting up close. "After a while, once you got comfortable, would you have checked in on us? Would you have given us any thought? If we all died, would you know? Would you even care?"

"Go to hell for saying that," Carol snarled.

"'Cause the way I see it, you don't give a shit about us!"

Daryl's face shot to the side as Carol's hand slapped across it.

A heavy, palpable silence fell over the pair as each stared back at each other. Carol's wide eyes sparkled with anger and rage, catching the light of the setting sun. Daryl went very still. His own eyes grew narrow again, stoic and cold and void of emotion. He looked at her, and when he spoke next, his voice was even and low. "Is that how you want to end it?" he asked, and when she gave him no response, Daryl nodded. "I hope you like it here," he said, and he stalked passed her, back through the exit door.

Carol stood shaking from head to foot. As the door finally closed shut and she was truly alone, she bent her head and wept into her hands.

* * *

 _A/N: That was rough. I apologize for taking so long to update, but I promise, promise, promise to end this with a happy ending. You have my word! Thank you all again for reading and for hanging in there with me._


	10. Chapter 10

When Rick had found her, alone and crying and inconsolable, they had embraced each other like the old friends they were. He had been shocked to see her there, just as she had been when she had opened those auditorium doors and found them all standing on the stage. Through her tears and sobs, she told him everything that had happened. From the moment she had left Alexandria, to the fight she had with Daryl. Rick in return told her everything else. He told her about Daryl going after Dwight, how he got shot and captured, the Saviors ambushing them on the road, and finally to the moment they met Negan. He filled her in on all that had since occurred in Alexandria, and why they had come to the Kingdom in the first place.

So much had happened in such a short amount of time. So much pain and destruction. They left together and found their way to the cafeteria, where Ezekiel had welcomed them all to dinner. Morgan eventually met up with them, and he, Carol, Rick and Jesus sat together, eating their meal away from the others, at the furthest end of the table.

Daryl was no where to be found.

As they sat and quietly ate, no one brought him up in conversation. Carol was grateful for that. She didn't eat much, just stirred the food around, too tired and spent to add to the discussion. It seemed that Jesus and Rick were debating the events that had happened only hours beforehand.

"Do you think we can trust Dwight?" Rick asked, as Jesus sighed into his soup. "Ezekiel seems to," Jesus responded, nodding slightly.

"I don't know," Rick said, shaking his head. "After all that he's done... maybe he's lying, maybe he's not, but I don't feel comfortable with him back out there with Negan and his men."

"I don't know much about the guy," Jesus admitted, "but it seems to me that he has more reason to be on our side than he does on theirs. I don't think he was bullshitting us. I think he was telling the truth."

Rick didn't respond but took a bite out of his roll, thinking. Morgan spoke next. "Are you going back tomorrow?"

Carol looked over at Rick as he answered. "We are," he said. "We've got a lot of work to do. Are you coming home with us, or are you staying?" Carol avoided Morgan's eyes. She knew he was looking at her.

"I want to," Morgan said. "I guess that depends, though." Carol did her best not to sneer. _Depends on what?_ she thought, angrily. _On me? If you want to go, then go. No one's stopping you._

"What do we do about Daryl?" Jesus said, and Carol's heart sank. She had hoped they could have avoided him all together, but it appeared that he was the elephant in the room.

"I'll talk to him," Rick said, and that was it. The table grew quiet again. No one seemed to have much of an appetite anymore. "Jesus, Morgan," Rick said slowly, awkwardly. "If you all don't mind... I would appreciate it if I could just sit with Carol for a moment. We still have a lot of catching up to do."

Jesus and Morgan looked at each other, then at Carol, and nodded. "Sure thing," said Jesus, and they both rose from their seats, taking up their trays. "I hear you're good at Aikido," Carol heard the bearded man say to Morgan. "Maybe you can show me some moves?" Morgan chuckled, and the two walked away, leaving Carol and Rick alone again.

Carol waited for Rick to speak. She had a feeling what he was going to say, and she just wanted to get it over with. "You gonna eat that?" Rick said suddenly, pointing to Carol's roll. Carol blinked. "Help yourself," she said, handing it over.

"Thanks." Rick took it, breaking the roll apart and spreading it around in his bowl picking up the remaining soup. After a few moments of chewing, Rick looked at her and sighed. "I have to ask, Carol," he said, softly. "Are you coming back with us?"

"I don't know."

Only hours ago, she was hellbent on getting home. But after her fight with Daryl... after all the hurtful things that had been said... Carol closed her eyes. If the one person you cared about the most didn't want you back, if you had hurt them too much to earn their forgiveness... then what was the point? Rick seemed to have read her mind.

"You didn't see the way Daryl was after," he said, gently. "Back at the Hilltop, when he was laid up in that bed, and I told him you were gone... he was ready to move mountains just to get you back. He was gonna go after you and find you. That's what he said. He loves you, Carol. We all do, but with him... I don't know, with him, it's just... it's always been different."

Carol's heart swelled with warmth that quickly deflated with guilt. "If I go to him now, I'll just make things worse," she said, defeatedly.

"Then don't," said Rick. "You don't have to go to him. He'll come to you."

Carol looked at him with a quiet desperation. Rick pulled her in, hugging her tightly before letting her go. As he did, Carol got up from her seat, wiping her hand across her face. She bid him good night, and started to leave, just as Rick called out to her.

"Tomorrow when we head out... will you stop to say goodbye? To me, at least?"

Carol could only manage a nod before she turned and walked away.

* * *

The night sky was littered with bright, blinking stars. Carol pulled her sweater close to her as she looked up at them, watching them. She realized now why the greenhouse was Ezekiel's favorite spot. It was peaceful up there, alone with the plants and vegetables. It was a good place to think and be quiet. While the greenhouse might have been Ezekiel's place of solace, the balcony outside it was hers. She could stare all night into the sky, never once growing bored of the endless constellations.

Her body felt tired and ready for rest, but she just couldn't pull herself away from there. Going back down meant facing the truth. That in some way, she had failed her friends. The news of Glenn's death had sent shock waves through her. It didn't seem real, like he wasn't truly gone, and she felt ashamed of herself for almost doubting it. She was angry. She was heartbroken. But most of all, she was sorry.

She had never wanted to hurt Daryl like this. She had never wanted it to end this way. If this was it, if their friendship was truly over, then she would only have herself to blame. Nothing she could say or do could ever make things right between them. He would be leaving tomorrow... he and Rick, back to Alexandria, back to war, and she didn't know if she would ever see him again. She didn't want to give up, but she was tired. She had no idea how to make him listen, how to make him understand, and she felt so alone that she wanted nothing more than to curl up and disappear. She would stay at the Kingdom, and she would do what? This place wasn't her home. But Alexandria wasn't her home either. She had no more home to go to.

A gust of breeze picked up making the glass walls behind her clatter. She folded her arms close together, trying to keep warm, when she heard the sound of heavy footsteps. Carol tensed, feeling her throat go dry as she turned around. She knew it was him even before she saw him. Daryl was standing in the shadows, silently closing the door behind him, finding her place there by the parapet. When he moved closer, and his face came into the star light, Carol could see the hesitance in his eyes. He seemed nervous. Unsure. He stopped a few feet before her. He dropped his head, staring at the ground, then looked into her eyes. Just as before, he didn't speak. All he could do was stare at her.

If this was her last moment with him, then she would not hold back. She would not hide from him any longer.

"I know you're mad at me," Carol began, breaking the silence between them. "You have every right to be. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, for Maggie... I'm sorry for everything." Carol brought her hands to her face, choking back a sob. She sniffed loudly, looking up, blinking away the tears in her eyes. "We all try to do what we think is right and it always backfires!" she said, fiercely this time. "You wanted to avenge Denise. You wanted to right the wrongs you thought you caused. I wanted the same thing. I was the cause of so much wrong. So I wanted to rid myself from it. I was turning into something I wasn't. I was destined for Hell and I wasn't going to drag you down with me." Carol turned from the parapet to face him fully. He was standing so still.

"What happened to Glenn... that wasn't your fault," she said. "And what happened to Lizzie wasn't mine. I never told you about that. About what happened to the girls. I never told you about Karen and David. Not properly, at least. There's a lot I never told you about. But that's because I couldn't burden you with what I had done. Or maybe because I couldn't face it myself." Carol's breath shook. She looked up towards the stars and sighed.

"I miss the prison sometimes. How surprisingly simple things were back then. How small the world still was for us. We were all needed in some way. I remember all those kids brought in from Woodbury. They were so innocent. Weak. So I started training them on how to use knives. How to fight with them. I didn't want anyone to know because I didn't want anyone to stop me. It was the right thing to do. Lizzie and Mika were good students. I thought if anything should happen, then at least they could protect themselves. And then Patrick got sick... and the cellblock massacre happened... and we were faced with something none of us were prepared for. Karen and David... when they got sick, I knew the disease was spreading. And I was scared. I was scared of losing everything we worked so hard to accomplish. No one was moving quick enough. No one was making the hard calls. I had to stop it. So I took matters into my own hands. And I killed them."

Carol felt surprisingly numb as she told Daryl the story. When she looked at him, his face was calm. The sadness in his eyes was all she could see.

"As soon as I plunged that knife in, I knew I had made a mistake," Carol continued. "I was wrong. I couldn't stop it. But it was too late. I had to finish what I started, there was no going back. And then Glenn got sick... and I ask myself everyday could I have done the same to him? He got better. He survived. Could Karen and David have, too? I don't know. But I think about Hershel, and how he spent his final days helping people. He saved so many lives. He saved Glenn, he saved Sasha... and he died. He died and I lived. How incredibly unfair..." Carol sniffed, wiping her eyes. "When Rick drove me out, and he told me no one would want me back after what I'd done, I believed him. And all I could think about was who was going to take care of Lizzie and Mika? I didn't know... I didn't know then just how sick that child was..." Carol could feel the build up now. Like a tea pot ready to boil. She took a steadying breath.

"I found them. The girls, Tyreese, Judith. I saw the smoke, I had to go back... but the prison was gone. Tyreese didn't know. He didn't know what I had done, that I had killed Karen. We found a pecan grove. I truly believed that I could start over. I was stupid enough to think I could make it work. I had the girls, Tyreese was there, and it was nice. But it was a lie. Lizzie was confused. The world had disturbed her mind. She thought the Walkers were her friends. That they were still people, only different. She wanted to show us. And when I saw Mika's little body... cold and lifeless on the ground... and Lizzie was holding the knife, still covered in her sister's blood, smiling at me and telling me not to worry, that Mika would come back..."

Daryl's eyes went wide. He stood there, still as stone, as the moon light exposed his pale face. Carol stared at him.

"She was going to do the same to Judith. I did the only thing I could do. I made it quick. Painless. And it was the hardest thing I ever had to do. She was just a child. Only a child. But if I hadn't done it, Judith would be gone. To save her life, I had to take another. I don't regret that. I gave Tyreese my gun. I told him I killed Karen. And I was ready for it to end. I told him to do what he had to do. And he forgave me. I don't know if I could've done the same."

"Then at Terminus, what we thought was a safe haven was a trap set out for us. When I found your crossbow in that storage room, all I wanted was to bring it back to you. And standing in those woods, seeing you all alive, that would have been enough. But then you saw me. And you were the first to welcome me back. You were always the first. You were my first friend in this world. You were the first one to see me. Just as I was the first to see you. We saw ourselves in each other. We made each other better. You've taught me so much... how to brave, how to be strong... but after everything that happened, after all the lives I took, how could you forgive me when I couldn't forgive myself? So I kept it all inside, letting it fester, and all the good things I've done, all the lives I saved, none of that mattered anymore because the guilt was all I could feel. It was all I knew. It was only until now before I could finally let it go."

Carol pressed on, watching as Daryl's hands trembled.

"I had a long time to think about it, everything I've done, both good and bad, and I realized something... I _do_ want to start over. I thought the Kingdom was a good place to start, but... nothing here gives me purpose. My family, my friends, the people I love... they do." Carol took a step forward. " _You_ do," she whispered. "I think I've known that for a while now. And maybe it's too late. I've screwed things up. I pushed you away, and the others away; I pushed everyone away because I hated myself and what I had become. I hit my bottom. I was lost and I didn't think I could ever come back. That's why I left. I couldn't protect you anymore. I didn't think I had any other choice. Can't you understand that?"

Daryl was motionless. Frozen. His eyes reflected the stars, bright and burning. Carol watched him. He was quiet, so very quiet, and it was torturous. She felt a sudden wave of dread wash over her. She had told him everything. Everything she could. What more did he want? What more could she give? What was he waiting for?

"Aren't you going to say something?" she said. "Yell at me, scream at me, anything? Jesus, Daryl— please. Just _say_ something!"

But she should have known better. She should have realized. Even then, as he stared at her as though looking away meant she would disappear forever. Daryl Dixon was not a man of words.

But action.

In three strides he bridged the gap. Her breath hitched as he cupped her face into his hands and kissed her where she stood.

It was fierce. And powerful. Full of unspoken words and emotions. Carol felt the world dissolve away around her. All that remained was this man. This man who had been her friend, her confidant, her soulmate in every sense of the word. She felt dizzy. Dazed. As though if he were to let her go, she would suddenly float away.

The kiss broke and he stared at her, wide eyed and panting. He seemed just as shocked and surprised by his actions as she was. Their eyes met, and he pulled her into him, resting her head in the crook of his neck.

"All that you've done," he whispered. "It's kept you alive. We've lost so much, Carol. And I can't lose you, too."

It took her that moment to realize it, but it was the first time she had ever heard him say her name to her. And that was it. The floodgates opened, and all the hurt, the pain, the guilt, the fear— all of it came out of her as she broke down in his arms, gripping his shoulders, his back, pulling him close to her and never wanting to let go. She cried tears of joy, she cried tears of sorrow. She cried for him, she cried for herself. She cried for Glenn, for Hershel, for Tyreese. For Lizzie, for Mika. For Sophia. She cried for everyone she's ever loved, for everyone she's lost, and he let her, never once wavering, never once shrinking back. He cried with her, silent and shaking, for she could feel the tears on her neck, and she stroked his hair, bringing him closer. Nothing in the world seemed to matter to them, then. There, on that balcony, underneath the moon and stars, they were the last two people on earth. And they would stay in each other's arms for a very long time.

* * *

Lanterns from the greenhouse were lit around them, as dark clouds billowed in the night sky. Neither of them knew how late it was. They were sitting on the balcony floor, shoulder to shoulder, with their backs pressed up against the glass walls. Daryl had his arms resting on his knees as Carol leaned into him, yawning. The silence between them now was comforting. Soothing. Carol was close to falling asleep until Daryl spoke up.

"So what's with the tiger?"

Carol chuckled, sleepily. "Ezekiel raised her since she was born. He used to be a zookeeper, you know."

"Weird," said Daryl, simply. He looked towards her then, his voice soft and low. "Do you trust him?"

"Yeah," said Carol. "I do."

"Seems confident, I guess," Daryl mumbled. "Wish he didn't put his faith in the wrong people, though."

"You mean Dwight?"

Daryl didn't respond but looked solemnly at his knees.

"When I saw him in those woods," Carol said, "wearing your vest, holding your crossbow... I wanted to kill him. But then he killed that spy, the one who was working for the Saviors, and a part of me couldn't help but think, why? Why would he do that? Especially if they were on the same side. Maybe he means it. Maybe he does want to help us. He's done bad things. I don't forgive him for what he did to you, what he put you through, but you must have seen something in him the first time around if you offered out your hand to him. You have good instincts, Daryl. You see people. What was it that you saw in him?"

Daryl took a moment to answer. "Just some scared asshole trying to help his friends."

"And maybe he still is."

"I dunno..." Daryl sighed heavily. He leaned back against the glass, blinking up into the sky. "After what he's done... I can't trust him again."

Carol stared at him, sadly. "Do you remember what I said to you the last time we saw each other? We were burying Denise, and I said you were right. That you should have killed Dwight when you had the chance. I never should have said that to you."

Daryl looked at her, confused.

"You were already beating yourself up for it, and I didn't help things," she explained. "And then later that night... that was the night I left. I'm so sorry."

"We never should have brought you or Maggie to that Savior's compound," Daryl muttered. "That was stupid. When they took you, I..." Daryl sighed, shaking his head. "You told me they didn't do nothing, but I knew something happened. You weren't the same after. Even before that, you hadn't been yourself. You were hurting for so long, all that time, and no one saw it. Not me, not no one. I should've seen it. I should've been there for you."

Carol's voice was thick with emotion. "I pushed you away," she whispered. "I didn't make it easy."

"Then I should've pushed you back."

Carol stared at him, her eyes shining with tears. "So," she sniffed, wiping her face. "What happens now?"

"I don't know," he said. "I guess that's up to you. If you stay here, you'll be safe. At least for a while. If you come back with us, you won't be. I just want what's best for you, is all."

"It's my choice," Carol said.

"It's always been."

Carol looked straight ahead, a small smile gracing her lips. "When you and Rick leave tomorrow," she said, "I'm coming home with you."

She looked at Daryl, and his eyes were full and bright. "You won't have to fight," he said. "We'll... we'll think of something."

"I might have to," she said.

"No. That ain't fair to you."

"War's not fair, Daryl. Nothing about this life is. It's like you said. It's not safe back home. But there's no place else I'd rather be. I belong with my family."

"If you kill again," he said, "what's that gonna do to you?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "Sometimes you have to kill. And sometimes you don't. That's what Morgan said. Maybe there's some truth to that. All I know is, if it comes down to it, if it's your life or theirs and I have to choose... I choose you. Every time."

"Don't ever think you have to go through it alone," he said. "The pain, the hurt— don't put that on yourself. We carry it together. It won't be easy, but we've got each other. That's all that matters to me, now."

Carol smiled at him, softly. He looked at her with those eyes she knew so well. The air around them suddenly became very warm. She reached a hand out, brushing the hair away from his face. She wanted to try something.

Slowly, cautiously, she leaned into him. She could feel his body tense up, but he didn't pull back. She kissed him, and he returned it, soft and sweet. They would have to work on this. Start out slow, take their time. This was still all so new to them, whatever 'this' was. When they broke apart, Daryl was breathing hard, and Carol could see even in the darkness how crimson his face had turned. The fact that he, only some time ago, had kissed her more passionately than anyone has ever done so before in her life, could still somehow be so shy and nervous around her, made her heart burst with affection.

Daryl was doing his best to keep his voice even.

"We, um," he swallowed. "We should get some sleep."

"My room or yours?"

Daryl looked at her, horror struck.

Carol snorted, then began to laugh, as she smiled at him, teasingly. "I can't help myself," she chuckled. Daryl ducked his head, grinning slightly as the color returned to his face.

"Stop," he said, and Carol laughed some more.


	11. Chapter 11

Carol woke early the next morning staring at the small ceiling in her room. Her eyes traced the little patterns in the old plaster and she smiled. She was excited. Excited and terrified all at once. The sun was a thin strip on the horizon as she sat up in her bed. _I am going home today,_ she thought. The realization made her heart skip a beat. She knew what she was returning home to, but somehow, it wasn't the waiting dangers that frightened her so much. She was afraid of how much everything had changed, how her family had changed, and how nothing would ever be the same again. Negan, his Saviors... they had turned their lives upside down. This was a whole new game they were playing now. The old rules didn't apply anymore. What happened to Glenn... Carol vowed then and there that she would stop at nothing to keep her loved ones safe. She never wanted them to face a similar fate again. She thought of Daryl, and her breath shuddered. Things were different between them now. Things had changed for them, too. When he had kissed her... last night, on that balcony... Carol realized something she should have known long ago. She loved him. Not just as a friend, or a member of her family... but as a man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with, however long that may be. With Daryl, she had something to fight for. With Daryl, she had a reason to live. And nothing— not Negan, not even death itself— could ever take that away from her. She would like to see them try.

Carol got up, changing into fresh clothes when movement from the window caught her attention. She looked outside staring down at the back school yard and saw a man with a long stick sparring with an invisible opponent. The sun had not completely risen but the sky was a bright pink now, and mist laid around the yard like lingering spirits. Carol sighed. There were a few things she would have to do before they left today. And she would have to swallow her pride to do it.

A few early risers were having breakfast in the cafeteria as Carol grabbed two mugs of coffee. She exited through the back, passed down the hallway, and opened the door to the yard. The grass was wet with dew as Carol approached the man, watching him practice. He paid her no attention.

"You don't ever stop, do you?" she said, after some time had passed.

"Nope," Morgan responded, still moving, still focused.

Carol waited a moment before letting out a sigh. "Here," she muttered, handing him the steaming cup. Morgan stopped and stared at her, reaching for his mug. "You brought me coffee?" he asked. Carol shrugged.

"Thank you." Morgan blew on the rim, taking a long, careful sip.

"Listen, Morgan," Carol began, tapping her thumb nervously on her cup. "Things between us... I know it's been rocky. I haven't been very friendly to you. In fact, I've been down right awful. I wanted to apologize for that."

Morgan lowered his mug, staring remorsefully at the ground. "After what I did to you? You shouldn't be the one apologizing."

"Someone once forgave me for doing something unforgivable," Carol said. "What you did doesn't even compare."

"Doesn't matter," Morgan said, looking at her. "We might have both been in the wrong that night, with the walkers and the Wolf, but I took it too far. And for that, I am truly sorry."

The confrontation between Morgan and Carol at Alexandria may have ended in a physical fight, but it was more than him knocking her out that caused this animosity between them. He had made her question her beliefs, her very morals, and that is what ultimately triggered her final decision to leave her home behind. Morgan was right when he said he got to her. But she couldn't put all the blame on him. No one made her leave. In the end, it was her choice. Just as it was her choice to return to the place where she belonged.

"Well," said Carol. "For what it's worth, I forgive you."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Morgan asked her, seriously. "You had plenty of time to do it. Daryl, Rick... why didn't you say anything?"

Carol knew without a doubt if she had told Daryl, he would have tried to kill him. And Rick... well, Rick didn't have to know every little thing that went on all the time. He had enough on his plate as it was.

"I didn't tell anyone because it was nobody's business but ours," she told him. "I just want to move on from this."

"I told Rick," Morgan admitted, surprising her even. "When we went out looking for you, I told him what had happened. I'm not proud of what I did. But I'm not gonna hide from it, either. I'll tell Daryl myself, if that's what you want. I'm ready to face the consequences."

"Morgan," Carol said, warningly. "I'm going to advise that you don't do that."

Morgan and Carol stared at each other for a moment, before Morgan chuckled softly to himself. "Yeah," he said, finally. "Yeah, maybe you're right."

Carol sighed with relief, chuckling as well. A silence fell between them then as the sky began to brighten. Birds were singing somewhere in the trees and Carol smiled at him. "I'm trying this new thing about starting over," she said, holding out her hand. "What do you say? Think we can be friends?"

Morgan smiled back, taking her hand in his. "I think I'd like that," he said, and their hands shook. Carol looked towards the school building, knowing in a few hours, they would be heading home. "I need to ask you something," Carol said. "After what happened between us, after all the awful things I said... you still stuck with me. Why? Why did you care so much?"

Morgan looked to the ground, nodding gently. "Because someone once did the same for me," he said. "I suppose this was my way of paying him back."

They stared at each other, and for the very first time, they seemed to have come to an understanding. Carol gave him one last nod before she turned back, heading for the school, and smiling at the coming of the new day.

* * *

"Can't believe you let that asshole go."

Daryl and Rick were loading crates of food and medical supplies together up into the wagon parked by the front gate. It was nearing noon, and they were eager to head out before the sun reached too high in the sky. Ezekiel had offered them more rations, but as they only had so much room to fit in their car, they would take what was essential for their first trip back.

"It was Ezekiel's call to make," said Rick. "He's the one in charge here, not me. Besides, we had to let Dwight go. If we hadn't, those Saviors would've come looking for him."

"He has my crossbow, man," Daryl rumbled, dangerously.

Rick had the decency to look contrite. "It would've looked suspicious if he returned without it," he explained.

Daryl scoffed. "Yeah. If he had your gun, you'd be singing a different tune." He sighed then, kicking up the dust a bit. "Think trusting him was a mistake?"

"I can't say I trust him a hundred percent," said Rick. "But having someone working for us on the inside... we could use all the help we can get."

Daryl didn't look convinced. Rick sighed. "Look, when you first met him in those woods, you asked him the three questions, right? You wouldn't have done that if you hadn't seen something there. Maybe this is genuine. Maybe whatever good that was in him once is still in there somewhere."

"You sound just like Carol. She said something similar last night."

"Oh, yeah?" Rick smiled. "Last night, huh?"

Daryl gave him a warning look, reaching down to grab a box of vegetables.

"So," said Rick, picking up another crate. "We got Carol back."

"Mm-hmm."

"You two make up, then?"

"She's coming home with us, ain't she?"

"I'm happy for you."

Daryl dropped his crate in the wagon, staring at him.

"I am," said Rick. "Finding her, bringing her home, I know how much that means to you."

Daryl nodded, chewing on his lip. "Yeah."

"She seemed different to me this morning," Rick added. "Happier. Maybe not _happier_ , but... more at peace. And sometimes, I've noticed, when she looks at you... she even smiles again."

Daryl's face turned beet red. "Don't," he muttered.

"Don't what?"

"Just don't."

"There's nothing wrong with that."

"Rick."

"Everybody needs somebody."

"You need to shut your mouth, is what you nee—"

"Can I help at all here?"

Daryl blushed harder than ever as Carol strolled up to greet them. She was smiling at him, and Daryl thought maybe Rick had a point. She did seem happier. More like old herself, even. He wanted to believe he had something to do with that. He wanted to feel that sense of pride in knowing that she had opened up to him and only him, and an overwhelming desire to hold her suddenly took him. He wanted to gather her up in his arms and protect her from the dangers of the world. He wanted to shield her from the pain and grief that waited for them both, but he knew she would never let him take that on alone. They were a team, the two of them. They would fight this battle together. As long as she was safe, as long as she was alive, he would fight and keep on fighting. With her by his side, he had something to fight for. With her in his life, he had a new reason to live.

Carol shielded her eyes from the sun as she gazed up at the wagon. "Five people in a car, plus all this? Will we fit?" Rick gave the standing horse a pat on the neck. "We'll fit," he said. "It'll be tight, but we'll make it work. The Hilltop is not too far from here. Once we drop off Jesus, and he starts gathering his people, we'll head home and tell the others of the plan. We'll hear what they have to say and take it from there." Daryl wondered if the others would be angry for being kept in the dark for so long, but he knew why Rick had to do it. The less that people knew, the less chance they had of being ratted out. He trusted his people with his life, but with Negan's spies running around... no, this was the right call. He would stick up for Rick if anyone gave him grief. He just hoped Michonne was ok while holding down the fort.

"We'll be coming back here soon," Daryl said softly to Carol. "With our guys and whoever Jesus brings."

"That's right," said Rick. "We still got to be quiet about this, so we'll make sure the rest of Alexandria thinks we're going on a supply run. Truth is, we'll be training some of the Hilltop people how to fight, test their marksmanship. We'll include the Kingdom people too, but Ezekiel tells me they know how to fight."

"Someone will have to stay behind to keep Alexandria safe," said Carol.

"Negan's next tribute is in five days," said Rick. "While the others are here, I'll take the rest of Ezekiel's rations back with me. I won't leave Alexandria unprotected."

"I'll stay, if need be," said Daryl.

"Me, too," Carol added, quickly. Daryl didn't miss the way she stepped closer to him.

"We don't have to decide that right now," said Rick. "We'll talk to the others about it first." Rick stared at the pair. "Either way," he grinned, "they're all going to be glad to see you two again."

Daryl didn't realize it until it was too late, but he was actually smiling. Rick chuckled at him, patting his shoulder as he walked towards Jesus and Morgan, who were heading their way. Daryl looked down at Carol, and was surprised to see her look suddenly tearful.

"Hey," he said gently. "You alright?"

"It's just..." Carol paused, staring at the ground. "Going back home now, without Maggie, without Glenn... I never got to say goodbye..."

"Hey..."

"I still can't believe he's gone," she said. "Glenn was always so... he was so..."

Carol didn't have to say it. Daryl understood. "Yeah," he muttered. "I know."

"That could've been you," she whispered. The tears were shinning brightly now.

"It could've been any of us," Daryl said.

"But it could've been _you_." Carol was staring at him now, fierce yet doleful. "I should've been there..."

"No," said Daryl, horrified. "That's the last place I wanted you to be."

Carol held his gaze for a moment, nodding as she wiped her tears away. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to bring that up. I've just been thinking about how much everything has changed. Nothing will ever be the same again, will it?"

"Not all change is bad," said Daryl, and he reached out to touch her hand. Carol stared at him, blinking, then slowly smiled as he shyly smiled back. They both ducked their heads then, nervous as two teenagers with bright red faces. Daryl quickly pulled his hand away, scratching the back of his neck. "Haven't seen the others in a long time," he said, clearing his throat. "It'll be nice to get back."

"They all must really hate me," Carol said. She looked at him, and Daryl could see the fear and guilt in her eyes.

"If anyone gives you shit," he said, "I'll handle it."

Carol smiled, but shook her head. "No," she told him. "If the others want to talk to me about it, then we'll talk. We need to trust each other again, now more than ever. We're a family. And that's what families do."

It eased Daryl's mind to see her smile again, and he nodded at her. She turned her head, and he followed her gaze as Rick returned with Jesus and Morgan. "We all ready then?" said Jesus, and as if on queue, the young patrol guard who had escorted them into the Kingdom suddenly appeared before them. "Hey, guys!" he beamed, as he climbed up the wagon. "I'm going to take you back to your car today." He looked down at Carol and lowered his hand. "Afternoon, ma'am, I'm Scott," he said. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Pleasure to meet you, too," Carol chuckled, shaking his hand. There was a low rumbling sound, like a roar, and everyone looked up to see Ezekiel approach them all with Shiva by his side. Daryl instinctively stepped in front of Carol. Ezekiel may have had good control over that thing, but still... a tiger's a tiger.

"Safe travels to you, Rick Grimes and company!" said Ezekiel. "May the roads be clear and your hearts high on your journey home. Tell your people what we have discussed, then make a swift trip back. We will all be looking for your return."

"I cannot thank you enough for all that you have done for us, your majesty," said Rick, rather formally. Daryl snorted.

"Do not thank me just yet," said Ezekiel. "We have a long and perilous road before us, but I know with our combined efforts, we will see victory in the coming days ahead." Ezekiel smiled at them all as he gave the command to open the gates. Slowly the gates moved outward, and Scott took up the reins. "Alright," he said. "I've got plenty of room up here for one more. Ma'am, would you like a ride with me?"

"No thank you," Carol said, smiling at Daryl. "I think I'd rather walk today."

Scott look slightly crestfallen. "Well," he mumbled, "doesn't anyone want to ride with me?"

"Ah, hell," said Jesus. "Why not? I'll ride with you, Scott."

"Thanks, Paul!"

As the gates parted at last, and Jesus climbed aboard, Rick, Morgan, Carol and Daryl stood behind the wagon while Scott clicked for the horse to move. Daryl looked to Carol, nodding at her. "You ready?" he asked. Carol took his hand. "I am," she said. The wagon jerked forward, and Carol and Daryl stared at each other before following after the others. The road _would_ be long and perilous. The dangers in front of them were real and waiting, but in that moment, with Carol's hand holding his, Daryl felt as though nothing in the world could stop them. Whatever perils that came their way, whatever challenges that threatened them, Daryl knew they would overcome them all. They marched out from the gate, hand in hand, ready to face the world together.

* * *

 _A/N: I really want to thank you guys for reading and for all the lovely comments left for this story. I'm new to writing stuff like this, so to hear such positive feedback really means a lot to me. This took me much longer to finish than I had anticipated (real life and all, you know how that goes) so thank you guys for your patience._

 _As soon as season 7 rolls around, this story will be null and void, but hopefully this was something fun to read during the long hiatus. As far as what will happen on the show... I don't know. I'm really excited now to see where this next season will take us. I don't expect Daryl or Carol to reunite like this, or even see them together again until at least the second half of the season. I do expect a lot of pain and sorrow, though, let me tell you. Let's just hope whenever they DO reunite... it will be worth the wait. Can't we just have nice things for once?_

 _Thanks again to all you lovely readers! You rock my socks off :)_


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